


Soft Like Snow Hard Like Ice

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, King Jean-Jacques Leroy, Knight Otabek Altin, M/M, Prince Yuri Plisetsky, Slow Burn, side viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nothing can grow underneath layers of snow. It is fact. Fact acknowledge by everyone but young princes made of fire and starlight and the knights filled with undying devotion.---A Modern-Fantasy Au with Yuri as the Prince of a Kingdom of Ice with the ever loyal Otabek ready to swear himself to the throne. While a younger kingdom lead by the Leroy family prepares for war on the old Nikiforov territory.





	1. Chapter 1

Kingdoms of snow and ice are not places for passion.

They are hard, sharp edges of mountains, pools of ice scattered next to flowers that had long since frozen, and unforgiving tundra blanketing over unprepared travelers.

It came as no surprise to Otabek just how sharp the King’s cheekbones were in person. How blue his eyes were scanning over the group of soldiers offered before him. How he towered over himself and the other men who grew up in warmer, greener areas.

What did surprise him however, was how personally involved he was in the selection of his King’s Guard.

“These were the best men you have?” The King asked, eyes scanning over a taller man several spaces down the line from Otabek.

“From all of the nearby provinces yes! My protege picked them himself. A good number have trained just south of Leroy’s kingdom too.” The smile on Celestino’s face grew deviously. As though the mention of the opposing land would some how sell his trainees more efficiently.

The King nodded in contemplation as he moved on to the next solider, his face stoic at best, uninterested at worse.

It had been all over the provinces that the King’s Guard was being reworked. Viktor had long been without a personal attendee. A castle high up in the mountains was as safe as any could be and he had always been remarkably talented with diplomacy. His personality famously infectious and alluring. There was never a threat to his safety.

Until the larger kingdom to their west announced their successor. Younger than Viktor and older than the crown prince, Jean Jaques Leroy was all but expected to take over for the King and Queen. And with his looming coronation, the knowledge he would wage war on the delicate boundary between the two lands.

King Nikiforov knew this. Publicly the word was he had accepted the need for a companion. No one spoke of the fact he had been entirely alone on the throne since taking King Yakov’s place as a child.

Otabek knew better than to assume that was why he was looking at the guard’s personally.

The younger prince propped against the wall behind him, however, did not.

“None of these men are remotely exciting to him. You can stop kissing up.” The sharp voice cut through the silence, startling Celestino back a few steps.

“I’m not doing any such—“

“He has a point.” The King sighed. “I’m sure your men are talented but they seem… well they’re all the same.”

“Now that’s not even a fair judgment your highness! I’ve pulled from dozens of provinces, these men are all incredibly gifted. My protege insured we had the best of the best.”

A audible groan came from the blonde boy against the wall.

“If you have someone you trust more than these people why isn’t he here? You holding out on us?” The groaning boy snipped.

Celestino’s cheeks burned, his head shaking furiously. “No, no not at all Yuuri just, well he’s not always the best in big public situations and that would have to be a requirement for you I would assume—“

“Do you have his records?”

The room grew quiet, the King’s eyes shining for the first time since he entered. The rejected soldiers beside Otabek shrinking in place as Celestino nodded.

“I can show them to you in my study. They’re rather extensive so it might take a moment.”

For the first time a smile came across the King’s face as he ushered Celestino out of the room, the only sign of optimism in the younger man’s form.

The solider’s took the closing of the door as their signal to leave, the rejection more obvious on the younger men’s faces than the more experienced. Otabek had to admit he was a little disappointed. If nothing else being the personal guard of King Nikiforov would have been far softer an assignment than guarding the boarder, or worse being sent out.

It wasn’t until he began to collect himself that he noticed the Prince had been left in the room, his sharp sea green eyes scanning the solider’s leaving the room with contempt. As though them leaving was their acceptance of defeat. It was, they had failed to inspire confidence in the King.

But Otabek could not bring himself to give up the fight when he realized they were still being assessed, even if it was by the boy.

He was unsure when the green eyes turned on him, his body froze long before he became cognizant of the sharp gaze cutting across his frame.

He’d felt this focus before. Older soldiers who’d seen war and returned to his village would give it to him when he demanded to be trained. They gave it to him again when he bested the other students, and again when they saw him walk out in his first suit of armor. He never expected the eyes of a solider to come from a little prince.

“You would’ve barely passed his shoulders.” The crisp voice cut through his thoughts, the piercing eyes locked on Otabek’s own.

“And?” He was unaware of telling himself to speak, only of the blaring noise in his head telling him to stop. “He’s not looking for a human shield. Height is irrelevant to strength. I would still be taller than you, your highness.”

He almost swore the younger man’s mouth curved up in a smile. “For now maybe.” The green eyes peeled themselves away from Otabek’s up to the fresh lines of his hair. “But even if you were taller Victor would never abide by that hair. He’s already terrified of losing his naturally and your giving it up.”

“If my hair is what makes up his mind I doubt he’s looking for a guard just for efficiencies sake.” Otabek would spend the rest of the day locked in his room to punish his mouth for not knowing when to stop talking.

That would have been an easier thing to convince himself of if the little prince didn’t reward his curt behavior with a smile.

For as piecing as his eyes were his smile was equally as soft. Like the reflection of a new morning on fresh snow. Otabek knew it was presumptuous to assume this smile was something special just for him, like Viktor the young prince was to be shared with the country. Nothing about their lives was intended for one citizen. But he had an even harder time believing a face so sharp could even have produced a smile so kind if it tried.

Otabek would never understand how these people were real, but he knew in that moment he would be proud to lay his life on the line if it kept such a fairy creature safe.

“He’s not. If he was we would’ve picked the first man that looked like they could hold a sword.” The prince’s voice was more playful than when he originally spoke. “If Viktor want’s his advisor to sign off on him distracting himself with a new man to watch they’ll at least need to be useful.”

Otabek would have been useful. Otabek would not have been interested in being fawned over by the king.

“Tell him I wish him the best of luck. He’s been alone for a long time.” This response was at least the more polite of his remarks for the day.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not holding my breath.”

A call came from down the hall in a language Otabek could not automatically translate. Followed by a very clear whine of “Yuratchka” that tinged the prince’s ears pink.

“Is that you..?” It was at that moment Otabek realized how tight lipped the government had been with the name of the young prince. Reputations were tossed around, Ice Tiger, Fairy Prince, a number of other less accurate titles, but no names. He was to be Viktor’s shadow until the day he was announced as the successor.

This secrecy apparently meant nothing to Viktor himself.

“Yuri.” The prince replied quickly, ears still pink in frustration. “My name is Yuri.”

Otabek could not explain how he managed to make the name sound so pleasant to his ears.

“I think his highness is calling you.”

The child groaned, heading past Otabek without a second thought. “Be glad you get to avoid working with him.”

“I will try.” The small thread between his mind and mouth separated one last time. “Until I see you again, Yuri.”

The prince froze, as though he wasn’t used to hearing his own name. He shouldn’t be. Otabek was not at a level to be speaking to him without honorifics. The first name shouldn’t have rolled off his tongue so easily.

“Don’t hold your breath solider.” He spoke without looking back, his voice cutting through Otabek’s mistake, putting him in his place without trying.

The door closed behind him with the smallest sound. The grip around Otabek’s chest tightening.

It would take him all day to forget that the Prince’s rejection hurt more than the King’s.

* * *

The coronation of King JJ came faster than anyone expected. The engagement between Viktor and his right hand man did not.

Yuuri Katsuki, the star protege of Celestino Cialdini from two years ago marveled the young King. His form in demonstrative fights was unlike anything Otabek had seen before. It was like watching music. Even in his missteps he could have outlasted any one of the men Otabek had trained with.

And despite both Yuuri and Celestino’s warning, Viktor found him undeniably charming during the formal gala’s held at the palace. Several were broadcasted across the nation. Each time the camera caught sight of Viktor and Yuuri’s dancing the pair radiated love.

Otabek was almost jealous.

How could a country on the edge of war produce something so pure as the love between the King and his best Knight?

The camera would then scan by the younger prince, hiding from the happy couple, usually in conversation with a taller redheaded Duchess. Otabek was more jealous of her.

“You’re still watching those broadcasts?” A friend asked once in their shared apartment. “We’re going out to train in a week and you want to watch rich people dancing and drinking?”

“They’re happy.”

“They never have a reason to not be happy. I’d be happy too if my meals cost as much as a car.”

“You’d crash a car.”

Otabek returned the broadcast, the camera was no longer on Yuri. Instead he watched Viktor profess to the nation that he’d never known love outside of that for his people until he met Yuuri. Audible gasps came from the crowd as the King proudly lifted his hand, showing the glistening gold band, its filigree matching the decoration on Yuuri’s armor.

A matching gold band came into the frame as Viktor pulled the younger man’s hand to his chest.

Both men were beginning to tear up.

Yuri was barely visible in the background, his hands clapping for the pair, his gaze far from the gala hall.

Otabek tried not to hold his breath.

* * *

 

Two more years past. Yuri’s eighteenth birthday had been televised and for the first time since their encounter Otabek was far from the screen to watch.

The war on the border had begun with troops advancing from King JJ’s land in staggering numbers. Either in an attempt to make up ground lost by his parents early abdication, or as some townspeople said, an attempt to prove the young king was as strong if not stronger than Viktor. Regardless the young king set his sights on the land between his Kingdom’s boarder’s and the mountain range of the Nikiforov’s.

Otabek had been among the men deployed. His remarkable scores promoting him through the ranks faster than he wanted.

While he was sleeping in bunkers and sending letters to his mother the crown prince danced for the King and his consort.

Otabek would never know how the young man spun, back arched perfectly as small specks of light trailed up from his feet and off his finger tips. His long hair whipping as he turned his head to keep his balance. As fast as he spun he lifted up a leg high above his head, the specks of magic trailing after him. His dance would continue, a masterful display of technique and an understanding of delicate magic kept locked away for the royal family.

No one in the room would know how the debut dance occurred the same time Otabek’s unit came under fire. How he pulled his captain from the rubble of their bunk, or how he managed to push back against the foreign troops. How one well aimed shot at the tank advancing on their ranks forced the machine to discharge into its own engine.

He would be called a war hero when he was sent home to recover. He wasn’t discharged officially. That honor was saved in the event he returned and lost a leg or his eyesight. As it was he just needed time to rest and heal from bits of shrapnel that had torn through his fatigues.

 

The two years between his deployment and his first act of heroism past over him in a blur. All he knew was that the couch now underneath him felt far softer than he remembered. An unsettling thought considering how much he protested it’s original purchase by his roommate. The television across from him ran through the usual news bulletins but Otabek paid no mind.

A notice on the side of the screen had been pinned in place from his mother. A warm welcome and a request that he come visit her where it was warm as soon as he could.

He had intended to write back. He’d even opened the screen to try and type out a reply. His mind began to drift to the warm afternoons spent in her garden sipping tea and reading. He had every intention of going back until a doctor cleared him for duty.

But before he could figure out how to word his reply a second notification pinged, pausing the stream of white noise coming from the news anchors.

Dimitri must’ve heard I’m back. Or mother told Sabina. Otabek’s thoughts played calmly as he pulled up the new message, his fingers tracing above the screen to open the new window.

What greeted him was far from the sweet messages of his sister or the playful welcome of a friend.

All he could see was the large Royal Crest heading a letter titled “To Our Bravest”.

Otabek had forgotten how to breath.

* * *

 

“You’re sure about this?”

“What am I supposed to do? Turn down an invitation? They’re going to medal me or something Yusef.” Otabek’s pacing was bound to dig a hole in his apartment’s already aged flooring.

“Well shit I don’t know. It just seems weird that they’d want to reward you for, what was it again? Blowing up a tank? Or is the medal for getting hurt and not dying?” His friend had given up on trying to pull Otabek back to the couch, he would apologize to his doctor personally later.

“Yes, and maybe? It didn’t say. It just said I was invited to meet with his highness for my work. I-it happens it’s not that strange.” Otabek’s voice wavered. When he first met the King it was nothing personal. It was easier when he was more of an object than an individual.

“Okay… So… I’ll help you pack. You don’t want to scare them or anything with your clothes.”

“My clothes are fine!”

“Ota, man. I love you. But you can’t walk into the royal palace looking like you’re going out for a ride on that bike again. This is like, two levels fancier than your mother’s dinners.” His friend had a good point, but everyone was well aware of how the crown prince dressed and no one said anything about him.

The crown prince.

Yuri.

“Okay maybe a few nice things will help.”

If Yusef knew Otabek’s desire to make a better second impression on the young prince he didn’t mention it. His smile was instead directed to his friend’s closet as he began to pull through outfits he deemed both fashionable and warm. Otabek hadn’t realized he’d acquired so many sweaters before moving. Or scarves. The leather jackets he knew about. Those he would’ve packed regardless.

The pair continued to pack well into the night. Filling the travel suitcase with any number of outfits, topping the bunch off with the only suit Otabek had tailored before his deployment. He had intended to wear it for a promotional dinner or some family event. It was no where near nice enough to impress anyone waiting in the palace but as Yusef pointed out it was the best shot if he wanted something to fit. There was some muttering about his height preventing him from being lent anything Yusef kept around for weddings.

If he managed to return with any bit of his pride intact he’d be more than willing to risk angering his doctor more by opening a wound or two in order to remind Yusef who was stronger regardless of size. But judging by the last encounter with the Royal family, Otabek found this hard to believe.

He found it harder still to remind himself to breath as the ticket on his phone went through, allowing him onto the bullet train straight to the capital city. The promise of the conductor that a car would meet him to take him to the palace barely registering.

He had seen the start of war. He shouldn’t be nervous about maybe seeing a boy who wouldn’t remember him.

He shouldn’t have been but he absolutely was.


	2. Chapter 2

It felt foolish to say Otabek had expected a palace built against a snow covered mountain to feel warm. Every inch of the palace from the outside seemed cold. A pristine otherworldliness that dared the world around it to try and approach it. Sharp edges and high ceilings, cold marble and grand statues, even the gardens protected from the elements by panes of glass seemed too harsh to touch.

The warmest thing in the entire building was the feeling of embarrassment tickling the back of his neck as he followed a butler to a guest room. His things placed gently on top of the bed before he received a small reminder of the time he would be expected in the grand hall for dinner.

With a small mention of the need to hold onto his invitation in case he wanted to wander and a quick thank you for his service the butler slipped away, leaving Otabek to process everything from his trip from the train to the room he stood in now.

The train had already been more opulent than anything he had experienced before. He had thought his parents to be wealthy, or at least the Mosque they would attend to be. But even the finest of embellished silk he’d seen was nothing compared to the velvet he sat on. The screens beside him showing the route they were taking appeared to be crystal with a picture so clear he occasionally had to remind himself it wasn’t the actual window.

And now as he looked around the room twice the size of his own he felt more out of place than ever. The fur blanket across the plushness of the bed seemed almost too expensive for Otabek to justify leaving anything he owned on top. His father’s old leather suitcase usually seemed hardy and timeless but now it only looked weathered and dirty. For a split second he considered moving his things somewhere else.

If the familiar pain in his side didn’t threaten to return when he bent to get a hold of the handles he might’ve done just that. Instead he was faced with the reality of his situation. The shrapnel that had been removed from his body, that had garnered him a hero and brought him here, had actually injured him.

 No matter how easy it was to forget the puckered white line of scar tissue across his oblique he was in fact wounded. Though not seriously enough to be discharged permanently, it would leave a permanent scar. Most likely it would be joined by others if he could survive the war to the end.

Now that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before he gave himself the chance to dwell on the future Otabek turned his attention back to there room around him, spotting the door quickly. It didn’t take long before he noticed himself walking down the hallway away from the room and any less than pleasant thoughts.

He had to admit the emptiness of the hallways were appreciated. He had never been good with small talk so the chance to relax enough to wander an incredible relief.

He’d seen images printed around about works of art purchased by the king but seeing them in person was another. Grand portraits of a younger Viktor preparing for his coronation next to an array of poodles dressed up for very whim the man had in his younger days.

As he walked the pictures became more current, captured moments skating across a near by lake with the soon to be consort. The pair laughing and holding one another under trees Otabek had never seen before. The most striking image, however, was a moving image of the pair and the younger prince.

It looped through the movements of the men, Viktor’s hands brushing through the prince’s now long hair, puling it into a braid. Yuuri stood closer to the corner or the frame, his hand resting on the royal poodle’s head as he watched the two lighter haired men affectionately. What became the most mesmerizing though, was how the young prince’s eyes sparkled when he looked from Yuuri to the person taking the photo. It wasn’t that smile Otabek had seen years ago, but there was a fire in his eyes age seemed to only deepen.

He knew Yuri wasn't able to see him past the screen of the portrait, that he was more than likely making sure whatever royal archivist was there got a proper look at the sharpness of his cheekbones and the new prominence of his jaw. He knew this but for the life of himself he could not look away from that mischievous spark. A shadow of a smirk playing out on his lips before the picture looped back to it’s original layout.

Maybe wandering was a bad idea. He needed rest before dinner, not to exhaust himself staring at the portrait of a man who obviously knew what his looks were doing to passers by.

If if hadn’t been for the sharp reminder that he was in fact not the only person in the palace he might’ve managed to leave the hallway in time to recover. Otabek however, was not so lucky.

“Yuratchka this is impossible!”

“You’re impossible. And I told you not to call me that, fuck, come on.”

“It needs to be perfect it’s the only way I’m going to convince him to let us vacation by the Ocean if the ceremony happens here!”

A loud groan came from the end of the hallway, reverberating across the walls straight through Otabek’s chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d wandered to far.

His legs had conveniently stopped listening to the rest of his body telling them to leave.

“You could get married in a bathroom and you both would be too busy crying to notice. Come on I’m tired we’ve walked everything twice.” The voice that groaned continued, Otabek couldn’t place it automatically but he knew it to be familiar. Deeper than what he remembered but unmistakably petulant like the teenager he once met.

“That’s not true at all. I’m only getting married once and it’s not going to be anywhere less than perfect.” The silver hair of the king was the first thing Otabek noticed as the pair rounded the corner, it seemed slightly thinner than it had looked on broadcasts but it shown like the ice on the window frames none the less.

“I don’t know why I’m the one stuck dealing with this I couldn’t give a damn about anything but what we’re all drinking after—“ The blonde prince followed the king, cutting his thought off as soon as he recognized an unfamiliar figure in front of them.

God whatever magic the broadcasts did to Viktor’s hairline worked the opposite on Yuri’s disposition.

He was strikingly taller than he had appeared, a lithe figure nearly a head taller than Otabek. Blonde hair pulled to one side of his head, braided tightly into place with a skill that suggested hours of work. The fur collar of his coat failing to soften the edge of his jaw or the hard line of his lips. Otabek didn’t dare look any lower for risk of being caught staring. Or at least caught staring more than he was.

“You lost or something?” Cut through his awed haze within seconds.

“I’m sorry what?” He stumbled over his own words, gaze moving between the two to try and register who he should even be addressing.

“Are you lost? There aren’t any tour’s happening today.” Yuri repeated, Viktor’s eyes inspecting Otabek as though he was trying to remind himself of something.

It was only by the grace of whatever gods watched over him that Otabek managed to remember the invitation folded in the pocket of his jacket. “I was told to come here? Something about an award or a thanks it doesn’t specify. It just said to come.”

At this the young king’s whole face lit up. The quick snap of his fingers startling the prince to the point of almost dropping the invitation, his fingers brushing Otabek’s before he recovered. Thankfully no evidence of how fast this caused his heart to race showed on his face, not that either of the other men were focused on him after the snap. 

“Of course! That’s today! Right!” The heart shape smile that trademarked so many of the King’s appearance was just as endearing in person. “I’ve been so busy the time escaped me. We’re so glad you could make it. Thank you for your service Mr..?”

“Altin. His name is Altin.” Yuri’s brows began to furrow as he spoke, his eyes scanning over the invitation. “You forgot a veteran’s dinner? Seriously Viktor?” The blond cut through in a language foreign to Otabek’s ears.

Many old languages had been forgotten over time, but with the close proximity to King J J’s men the ability to communicate in languages the other did not understand became an asset. Russian, the language of the kings, had been the preference of Otabek’s captain.

He made a mental note to thank him later.

“I have been busy,” Viktor hissed back, the smile on his face plastered on completely unaware at Otabek’s slow translations. “I’ll figure something out if he’s here other’s are too. We’ll have a nice dinner or something I can solve this.”

“You’re hopeless I’m telling Yuuri this is how you treat men that aren’t him.” Yuri punctuated his threat with a devilish smirk before switching back to English. “You still look lost Altin. The only thing that’s this way is the gardens and they’re still cold this time of year.”

Otabek nodded, unsure of anything he could say to keep himself out of trouble.

The king already seemed ready to run from the hall but Yuri was almost relishing in the mistakes of both the shorter man and the king. The longer the green eyes sized him up the more apt the Ice Tiger name seemed fitting. Otabek only assumed it was the same look a real cat had on their face before pouncing.

“Unless the cold doesn’t phase a solider. Then I’d love to show you something more interesting than paintings of Viktor’s weird thing for poodles.”

It was a trap, there was no way something like that could come out of the face of a man like that without being a trap. Before Otabek had the chance to decline though the briefest smile flashed across Yuri’s face as Viktor scoffed at his quick jab.

This was a trap Otabek would gladly fall into.

“I can manage to stay warm. Blood runs hotter down south I think.”

If he hadn’t known better he would’ve said the prince’s cheek’s were tinged pink before he turned to lead the way.

* * *

 

Green houses always confused Otabek. Where he grew up the seasons touched the trees, certainly, but they always came back in the heat of summer. 

His mother’s garden was always one of the things he reminded himself on when he slept in his barack. The sweet smell of roses mixing with the chai brewing in the kitchen, wafting over him.

The crispness of the Nikiforov garden, however, was something so bizarre he almost dared to question how many of the plants could grow naturally. 

That is if he could manage to pull his eyes away from the blonde prince reclined on a stone bench across from him. The fur collar of his coat pushing his hair forward as it tried to act as his pillow. The piercing green eyes focused on the snowflakes hitting the glass above as though he was daring them to not melt.

“The blue flowers are for the King Consort. They’re what smells so strong.” The man said without taking his eyes off the snow. “I never payed attention to what they mean but you’re free to pick one if you want. Yuuri likes cutting them for bouquets to put around everywhere.”

“I’ll manage without any.” It took all his restraint to look away from the prince and focus on the rest of the garden. “None for you then?” He tried to tease, he doubted any playfulness actually made it to his voice, but thankfully Yuri didn’t seem to be paying him much mind.

“No. I’m not a flower person.” The quip came offhand, no true offense taken. “I had my own things moved in after my coronation. I just like the sun coming through here. Good for naps. Sasha appreciates it too.”

A small hand tightened it’s grip on Otabek’s throat as he turned over a bizarrely colored leaf. He’d never heard talk of the prince with any woman before. “Sasha?”

“Yeah. My cat. She likes sleeping where it’s warm and the pond has little fish she tires to eat.” Yuri said fondly. “She’s probably sleeping on Viktor’s throne right now though. It’s always sunny in there this time of day.”

_…of course Sasha’s a cat. They’ve mentioned it on the news I’m sure, traveling is messing with your memory Beka._ Otabek nodded, kneeling by the pond to inspect it for the fish in question, silently wondering if it was deep enough to drown himself if he forgot anything else potentially embarrassing.

“…You lose your tongue fighting or do you just not like cats?” Yuri’s voice cut through his thoughts. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling with the knowledge of his gaze now focused on him.

Carefully he kept his focus on the pond. “No. I injured my side not my tongue.” The burning sensation stayed. “I’ve just had a long day traveling. Sleeping somewhere warm like your Sasha sounds pleasant.”

He could’ve sworn he heard Yuri chuckle. “So formal.” He could hear the prince shifting positions, the feeling on the back of his neck washing over the rest of his body. “If I’m keeping you from resting by all means you can return to the room Vitya’s putting you up in. He did remember to give you that much right?”

“He did.” Otabek spoke almost too quickly. “But you’re not keeping me up. It’s an honor to have any of your time your highness.”

The overwhelming feeling of being watched left him automatically and despite himself, Otabek turned to investigate it’s absence. The prince had diverted his eyes to a fold in his coat, his fingers fiddling with the fabric to flatten it out quickly before he returned his focus to the other man.

Surprise darted across his harder features when he notices the other had turned, Otabek might have noticed it more had he not been focused on the fact the lounging prince had shifted to lean forward. One arm propping his chin up with his knee. Almost as though he had been trying to lean closer before Otabek turned.

Both men regretted their decision to give the other more attention.

“You don’t need to call me that. Just Yuri is fine.” The blonde’s eyes locked themselves on Otabek’s with less ferocity than he had before.

“Of course. My apologizes. You mentioned that before I should’ve remembered.”

This time Otabek caught the surprise, quickly followed by a confusion that only managed to embarrass the smaller man.

“I didn’t. I know I haven’t. You don’t need to kiss ass like that.” Yuri’s words were meant to jolt Otabek back in place but he seemed too curious to actually mean it.

“O-oh no, not this time. Um… We met before. You were with the King. You were trying to find a guard? I understand it was a while ago and I probably looked younger then.” Otabek could feel himself rambling. He quickly cleared this throat in an attempt to salvage the conversation. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me but it’s not every day we see people like you where I’m from.”

Yuri nodded, a look unfamiliar to Otabek coming over his face before he stood. The tail end of his coat catching on the bench beneath him. Carefully he held a hand out to Otabek, offering to help him up.

“You were taller then. I think.” The prince said, waiting for Otabek to take his offer. “Has the army not been feeding you well?”

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s height changed, Yuri.” Otabek blamed the sparking feeling on the palm of his hands to static. The cold always conducted static.

The smile that grew on the taller man’s face however, could have stunned the largest of men.

“Great thing about getting a real title, isn’t it?”

* * *

The events of the dinner blew past Otabek like a winter storm.

Dozen’s of pitchers of wine were passed around the table, along with delicacies he had only read about in books. Conversation moved quicker than he could keep up with from soldiers older than him with higher ranks. Several had ranks lower than him, but none of them had seen the field. The prevalent knowledge that a man of Otabek’s rank had been expected to die from his encounter with King JJ’s men passed unspoken in small glances from the higher officers.

No doubt they had sent dozen’s of men like him to their death already. No doubt they were planning to send more.

Had it not been for the sight of Yuri, coat discarded, leaning back in his chair beside Viktor Otabek would have been quick to excuse himself.

The young prince had stollen two glasses of champagne from the dark haired man sitting to the King’s right. Small laughs were shared between the two as Viktor tried his hardest to be diplomatic in his conversation with a general. Some comment about the food was made and the darker haired man burned pink, causing an uproar of laughter from the slightly intoxicated prince.

He could have spent the entire night watching their conversation, filling in the blanks with every raise of Yuri’s eyebrow and every time the other man leaned forward to whisper something that shut the prince up.

That was worth all the pain until a man ran into to the room to pull the King away, mutterings of an advance from JJ ghosting through he hall silencing even the rowdiest of conversations.

With a quick apology Viktor stood with two men wearing his colors. The King’s eyes making contact with the dark haired man a moment longer than polite, hours of conversation covered in one glance before the three men left the hall. The sound of the doors closing behind them echoing through the once lively room.

To Otabek’s surprise it was the dark haired man who stood next, almost too straight as the focused turned to him. “Friends. I’m very sorry for the disturbance. Please continue to enjoy yourselves. His Highness can handle this matter quickly. It’s nothing for anyone to worry about I’m sure.”

“It’s that Brat King isn’t it?” A woman called out.

“Has he finally crossed that mountain Viktor promises is guarded by his mother’s old spells? Spell’s fade you know!” Another man remarked, garnering some agreement from older guests.

There was a hard slam on the table, pulling everyone’s attention off the dark haired man’s slowly deflating figure. The threatening gaze of the blonde prince freezing the table in their place.

“Magic like that does not fade. The mountain is safe, and of course it’s the Brat King. But if Yuuri is still here the King wont be gone for long I can assure you.” Yuri stood, his eyes moving to Otabek, the fire behind the sea glass bright enough to burn straight through him. “Even the youngest of you should be familiar with spells like that.”

The crowd didn’t respond but the prince seemed focused on only one person’s response.

“I thought Royal Magic was an old wives tail.” Otabek mutter in careful Russian, only catching the attention of some of the older generals. “I thought the mountain was safe because the Leroy’s never understood something more resilient than a Pine tree.”

Yuri smiled devilishly, Otabek would certainly believe in magic if that smile set him on fire in his very seat. Something that felt far too possible.

“Altin here can speak for the rest of you. Since you seem to lose your tongues when spoken to directly.” The prince responded in English. “If you all would be as kind as to move the food from the center of the table I’ll put your minds at ease. Magic is almost more reassuring in person anyway.”

The dark haired man protested but an older woman was quick to snap her fingers to the servants, having the plates of food lifted out of harms way, her eyes matching the fire in Yuri’s as he stepped up on to the table with undeniable grace.

“A spell to protect your travel’s home, soldiers.” Yuri bowed, lifting his head to lock eye’s with Otabek before speaking in Russian so quietly he almost missed it. “It works best if you don’t hold your breath. And you keep your eyes on me.”

“I’m sure it’ll be hard to look away.” He replied, unsure if the words managed to even make sound as the prince stood straight once more.

His arms rising above his head, commanding music to being to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you've enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Otabek had never believed in angels. But god if had he knew this would be how they moved.

From the movement the music started to play all the ridiculousness of watching a tipsy Prince on top of a table faded away. Everything faded until the only thing registering in his mind was the slow fluid moments of the man before him.

One arm arching gracefully above his head, a trail of what Otabek could only call stardust marKing it’s path. The arm led it’s self up and over, pulling the body it was attached to back until he was almost certain the Prince was born without a spine. Or perhaps magic made mortal bodies irrelevant.

The fact Yuri’s face was a picture of ease made the second seem all the more likely.

As the music continued so did his trancelike dance. He spun, slow and melodic, the stardust trailing after his feet, marKing the table as he stepped. With one arch both leg and arm were raised high above his head, all balancing on a foot arched dangerously sharp. The longer he held this pose the more the flecks of bright white light wrapped their way up his limbs. 

Coursing over the Prince like vines. Dazzling and sparkling, reflecting light in time to the music.

For a moment Otabek swore he locked eyes with the Prince. Emerald green eyes speckled with gold burning a hole straight through the chair he sat in. The flicker of a smile danced across his eyes before his position changed, spinning him out of focus.

His feet moved faster, his arms tossing the flecks of light across the dinner guests, blonde hair whipping around in an attempt to keep up with it’s owner’s speed.

The music crescendoed, the dust froze, Yuri bent back. His arms were extended far above his body to the ceiling while his head had nearly leveled itself with his hips. He had closed his eyes and with the steady release of breath dropped the dust hanging above the table.

Otabek never believed in angels, but he assumed this would be what it would feel like to be blessed.

An automatic warmth, a feeling of safety, the slight glistening where the white light molded against tan skin.

He had barely recognized when the table began to clap.

Yuri stood straight, color rushing to his cheeks in exertion. His chest raising and falling fast enough for Otabek to see. Those emerald eyes free of any bits of gold as they shone in pride.

The older woman who cleared the table offered her hand to help the Prince down. A silent conversation playing out in shared glances as he returned to his chair.

It seemed sacrilegious to break the silence. As though whatever spell hung over the room would break the moment someone unworthy spoke.

“Reassured now, general?” Yuri quipped, a slight quiver in his voice barely betraying what he had just done.

A gruff response came as the old man in question focused on his wine. “Cute fairy tricks don’t secure mountains.”

“Magic is magic. Call mine cute fairy tricks again and see how far that gets you,” Yuri threatened. The sparks of light still in the room prickled like the air before lighting strikes.

“What his highness means,” the older woman cut in as she placed a thin hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “Is that you would do well to respect what it is the royal family can do. You will return to your men safe and rested and the mountain will stay secure. If you don’t think their magic is strong enough then you should do your job better to compensate. Unless you’d rather lose your position.”

The general had no further comment.

Dinner resumed and finished without further interruptions. The most notable event being the small glances thrown in Otabek’s direction as the Prince listened to the older woman by his side. It took all his self control to focus on plate of food in front of him instead of staring back with the hopes of catching one of those glances.

The only solace came when the plates were removed and the party excused. Everyone stood together to wait for both the Prince and the King consort to leave. And it may have just been the wine Otabek drank, but he could almost feel the sparks on his skin return as the Prince past him.

Their eyes meeting for a brief moment as an impossible thought ran through his head. _That spell was for you._

He might have had too much to drink.

* * *

He could have left that night had he wanted to. Many of the guests did. There was no medal of valor or speech which seemed to upset some of those invited but he couldn’t care. Whatever spell the Prince cast kept him in such a sate of bliss he managed to stomach most of the news playing across the screen in his room.

That was until a small alert popped up along with a recording of one of King JJ’s speeches. Ever charismatic he urged the people watching the war was in their best interest. That the Nikiforov line was no longer able to provide for their people. That a royal family who built succession off of the ability to perform feats of magic was no better than families going off bloodline alone.

The fact he seemed to believe what he was saying was what ate at Otabek the most. As though the suffering he put his men through was justified because his younger nation wanted to grow and swallow theirs up.

Viktor was young. Younger than Yakov was when he abdicated by far. Yuri was even younger. Their land was simply in the middle of winter. Spring would come after the King’s wedding and like any flower that could grow on their land they’d return and push the young upstart King back where he belonged.

Of that there was no doubt. And as Otabek turned off the screen to allow himself enough quiet to rest the vowed that he would also be back in shape by spring to protect whatever Yuri’s magic couldn’t reach.

————

Otabek’s dreams came and went most nights. Occasionally hovering over gentle childhood memories or less gentle premonitions about the war. The newest blip in his subconscious came in the form of the Prince’s fur collar.

He pictured himself burying his nose against the material as he held the Prince close. The smell wasn’t what he expected. Muskier, almost wet. That didn’t seem like Yuri. Yuri should smell sharper? More floral? Something rich that was certain. Not like a cat.

The fur also shouldn’t have been moving to bat against Otabek’s cheeks like a cat.

Or purring like one either.

In a haze Otabek opened one eye, only to be greeted by a bushy grey tail flicking from one cheek to the next. The obvious weight on his chest shifting as the spoiler of dreams shifted to acknowledge the poor guest it decided to sit on.

Two bright blue eyes looked down at him with such disdain as though he had some how put the cat out by waking up.

“I’m sorry..?” He muttered, receiving a disgruntled sneeze in reply.

As if ignoring Otabek’s ability to make noise the cat began to settle itself back down on his chest in complete disregard for the man underneath. Had he been allowed to sleep in further he might’ve found the situation endearing. He however, did not.

“Okay you furry little brat. You can go now.” Otabek attempted to push the cat off his chest, sitting up to jostle the creature further.

Seeing the challenge the cat only moved to his lap, taking it’s time to swat at Otabek’s hands until he managed to force it off the bed.

The bell of its collar jingling in a way that could only suggest curses in a language he would never understand as it pranced its way back out through a crack in his bedroom door. It’s tail flicking insults as it went.

Otabek tried to return to sleep but the furry devil had done it’s damage and he was well awake. Too conditioned to early mornings to relax again he pushed himself up to fumble around the room for something to wear.

A quick glance out the window as he dressed showed the sun just breaking across the the fresh snow. Less than appetizing for a morning run, but a palace was plenty big to explore on the inside.

Thankfully he doubted anyone of any royal background would wake up before noon.

Anyone except for a very rude cat, but that didn’t count.

Before he could decide what direction to wander he heard the jingling of a bell at the end of the hall. The same jingling that had just left his room moments before. The cat was mocking him.

Otabek turned, fully prepared to shoo the beast off when the sound of quiet Russian whispering came from around the corner.

“Sasha. Come on I can hear you. It’s too early for this.” The voice complained, punctuating the statement with a yawn. “You know Vitya doesn’t want you getting into the kitchen again”

The jingling stopped as the cat was caught and picked up by a disheveled head of blonde hair wrapped in a pink robe. A pleased chirp coming from the creature as it’s ears were scratched. A far too gentle punishment for such a rude thing.

The figure was about to turn and leave when the cat squirmed, chirping a second time to alert it’s owner to the man standing half in a doorway watching them.

“Oh, Otabek. Sorry did she open your door?”

The question shocked the remaining bit of sleep from his face. Blinking quickly Otabek tried to register what he was seeing. Yuri stood at the end of the hall, hair falling out of a braid, cradling a cat to his chest, form completely covered in a pink satin robe the likes of which his sister would have envied. 

Maybe he was still dreaming.

“Did she what?” Was all his brain could muster.

“Sasha. Did she open your door?” Yuri’s voice came back more amused than anything else as he walked closer. “The sun rises on this side of the palace and she snuck out of my room. She’s figured out how to push doors if they aren’t locked.”

“Oh that’s Sasha.” The cat flicked it’s tail insulted that it wasn’t already known. “I guess. I woke up with it on my face.”

It might have been that Yuri was gentler in the morning, or that he enjoyed hearing about his cat’s antics but for a moment the Prince smiled.

Otabek would really need to work on how easily he was spun off kilter by the younger man. It was far to early for him to keep himself from staring.

“Oops.” It was not an apology. “Maybe she likes you. You and your warm southern blood. Right?”

He blamed the cat for stealing his ability to form a proper sentence.

“My what?”

“Last night. You said it kept you warm.” Yuri smirked. He might have actually been just as cruel as his cat. “You weren’t lying about that were you?”

“No,” he managed to cough out. “No I am from the south.”

“Then that must be it. You probably made a nice pillow.”

“Hm.”

The Prince stood at Otabek’s door for a moment longer, the cat in his arms having decided it’s work was done for the morning as it made no attempt to escape. He shouldn’t have been as intimidating a figure as he was. Otabek blamed the height. There was no other logical explanation for someone dressed in expensive pajamas to scare someone with actual experience in battle.

“You eat breakfast down south?” Yuri asked, the scheming look in his eyes replaced by something more innocent. Almost something friendly. 

Otabek nodded in response.

“Come on then. It’s too early to be awake without coffee.”

* * *

The first thing Otabek learned about the young Prince outside of his public persona was just how much sugar he enjoyed in his food and how little he wanted in his coffee.

The rest of the palace was still waking up so Yuri elected for them to eat directly in the kitchen, jumping unceremoniously on the counter as the cook pulled together something without more than a second glance at the situation.

Otabek had the rising suspicion Sasha caused many an early morning.

“Come on, sit anywhere. You don’t need to be so formal.” Yuri motioned to the table across from the counter.

“I feel like I should.”

“I don’t want you to.”

The comment came so off hand it was clear Yuri expected that to be the end of the argument. But Otabek was still standing and never really did learn when to give something up.

“If that’s an order your highness.”

A pair of blonde eyebrows raised on impulse from behind the coffee cup before Yuri returned Otabek’s gaze.

The smirk playing on his lips keeping the surprised expression etched on his face.

“It’s not. An order is being formal.”

“I know.”

“So I’m not ordering you.”

“Yes sir.”

“So stop being so stubborn!” The Prince scowled, an image in pink that only caused Otabek’s smirk to grow.

“I could tell you the same thing you know.”

Yuri’s face froze for a moment before the scowl began to break. He was trying his hardest to keep the expression but Otabek could tell he was failing.

“I”m the Prince. I’m allowed to be stubborn.”

“Oh so now we’re being formal.”

Yuri’s face contorted for a moment before ultimately losing. The smile breaking across his face seemed to frustrate him even more than Otabek’s stubbornness. But Yuri it seemed was just as determined.

“No we’re not being formal god damnit!” Yuri laughed, the venom in his words falling flat.

Otabek smiled, considering anything that caused such a wonderful sound well worth being difficult. “Right. Sorry. Just got confused there.” He said as he sat.

He had barely touched the coffee he’d spent careful time stirring his sugars into but his chest already felt warm.

He wondered just how many people the Prince had this affect on. He’d imagine it to be most everyone. Or at least anyone who got to see him like this.

He wondered if any people did.

“Jesus, Beka,” Yuri said between breaths. “Are all soldiers like you?”

His brain short-circuited. The question barely registering after the nickname. “I’ve been told I’m stiffer than most.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Right. Cause more backtalk is what wins wars.”

Otabek could only shrug, electing to take a sip of his coffee to keep from incriminating himself.

“…Maybe it is. You could frustrate King JJ into surrendering.” Excitement began to creep back into Yuri’s face. “We could get you a real medal then and everything.”

“I’d be fine with just coming back for more dinners.” Yuri’s face lit up, dazzling the room far better than the light coming in from the window. If that smile came as a part of every visit Otabek would willing give up his entire salary in return.

“That’s stupid,” the Prince said, the smile still playing across his sharp features. “But if that’s all you’d want we do have dinner every night. It’s kind of a part of eating.”

The cat on the counter chirped in agreement with it’s owner. Her blue eyes twinkling in agreement. In retrospect it should’ve been obvious who she belonged to. Shit eating glances must’ve been a requirement for their little family.

“And the dancing?”

The blonde smiled, shrugging his shoulders playfully. “Not a requirement, but that look you had on your face was pretty fun.”

* * *

Viktor hadn’t seen Yuri so relaxed in years. Both he and Sasha watched the smaller man with bright eyes, toying with him every chance they got.

He had almost forgotten how nice it was to hear the Prince laugh.

“You shouldn’t be spying on them.” A quiet voice came from behind him, pulling him back from the kitchen door.

“I’m not spying, I’m just watching!” Viktor protested.

Yuuri raised a perfect eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked his fiancé over. “You’re spying. We can have breakfast somewhere else.”

“But just look at them. Yuri’s been smiling all morning. He hasn’t even stopped to fuss over that mess of hair on his head this is a very important occasion.”

“Then you don’t need to spoil it for him. He’s making friends. He could use one.”

“Go see the look on his face this much more than just making friends.”

The smaller man was never the most agreeable before his morning coffee. Even after it normally took some convincing for him to put up with the King’s antics.

Had it not been for the wonderful coffee aroma wafting out of the room Viktor was almost certain he would’ve lost the fight.

Yuuri sighed, pushing past Viktor gently to peak around the door frame. He didn’t protest when the taller man joined behind him to watch with him.

Whatever jokes were passing between the two of them were too quiet for the older men to hear. They didn’t need to hear to see the fond look in Yuri’s eyes or how he was leaning forward on the counter every time the more stoic man responded.

“Do they know each other?” Yuuri asked.

“I think. We ran into him yesterday. I don’t know where they met but he’s cute huh?”

“Cute wouldn’t be the word I used. Handsome maybe…Oh he’s one of the boys from Celestino’s camp isn’t he? He looks kind of familiar.”

Viktor nodded, not particularly caring where the boy came from. It was far more interesting to know that any person could illicit such a soft response from the Prince. The Ice Tiger persona felt far closer to an Ice Kitten.

He’d save that nickname for later when Yuuri wouldn’t be able to stop him from rilling the boy up.

“You know you’ll need to pull him away to talk about what the Leroy’s sent, right?” Yuuri spoke quietly in his native tongue, making sure to go slow enough to allow Viktor to understand.

One day he’d need to talk to the man about his habit for breaking a good mood.

“I know. I’ll let him go get dressed first. I don’t want him trying to call them back looking like he’s taking boudoir photos.”

“Half his clothing looks like that. You can’t stall all day.”

“Not all day. Just until after we’ve eaten and you’ve had some coffee. You do want coffee before work right?”

The smaller man didn’t respond. He didn’t need to for Viktor to know his lips were pursed in a tight pout as his brows furrowed. For all his dedication Yuuri’s weakness for good food always won out.

Without that vice Viktor doubted he’d have ever been able to win an argument against the smaller man.

“Fine. After coffee. But you do need to talk to him, Viktor.”

The King smiled in response, planting a soft kiss on top of the brown head of hair. “Of course. You don’t need to worry.”

The smaller man laughed, covering his mouth quickly to try and keep from giving away their position.

“I think you’ve forgotten who I am again.”

* * *

The warmth of the kitchen spread across the palace infectiously. The servants gossiped about the Prince and his new friend much to the entertainment of the guests. The King and his consort took their breakfast in their room, a regular occurrence but a pleasant break for the staff nonetheless.

Had it not been for a screen left on in one of the bedrooms the world outside would’ve been all to easy to ignore.

Those in the palace, however, were not so lucky.

King JJ was on the screen again. His charismatic smile working in stark contrast to the grey image behind him. A village on the edge of the mountain range fell. Men and women knelt behind him as he spoke of their future together.

The destruction had judiciously been left off camera.

He offered the camera promises of peace should other villages surrender on their journey up and down the mountain range. The reminder that momentary changing of power would be followed by the security of a younger nation.

The fire in the young King’s eyes was enthralling. Had anyone from the royal house been watching he might’ve stood a chance of swaying them but his offer fell on deaf ears.

The Prince was far more interested in Sasha’s ability to chase after the belt of his robe as Otabek dragged it across the floor while he dressed. Bonding he called it. Otabek called it harassing the cat but the fondness was there.

The King had distracted himself with his fiancé’s back and how it curved when he sat up straight to comb his hair. Their domestic bliss completely drowning out anything outside their bedroom.

If the King Consort had been as forgetful as the king himself the day might have continued on peacefully. Unfortunately his memory stayed ever sharp.

“I’ll get him myself if you wont Viktor.”

“He’s playing with Sasha, Sasha and that friend of his.”  
“Viktor.”

The King sighed, kissing his Yuuri’s cheek before leaving to knock on the doorframe of the Prince’s room.

Otabek acknowledged the noise before anyone else, pausing long enough to lose the satin robe to Sasha’s paws.

The Prince’s blonde head turned next, poking out from the closet as he pulled one of his many fur coats over his shoulders. His poster straightening out the moment he recognized who had stopped the fun.

“What?” He snipped, walking between Otabek’s seat and the door protectively.

“Yuri. If you have a moment.” Viktor’s smile was far from genuine and the Prince could tell.

With a quick glance back to his friend he nodded, offering a small smile to try and promise that he’d return soon.

Otabek knew better than to ask what was going on. He simply nodded as he watched the younger man leave the room. A cold feeling falling in his wake.

Maybe Yuri could feel that dangerous drop in temperature. Maybe that’s why he wore so many furs.

Sasha chirped at his feet, breaking Otabek’s thought to demand he return to their game.

The fur was obviously an attempt to look more like the royal feline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments and Kudos are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

“I get it. We aren’t friends.”

Blue eyes stared back accusingly.

“I’m sorry I know I’m not who you wanted here.”

What Otabek exactly did to anger the small thing he wasn’t exactly sure. Regardless there was no hope of him saving their relationship. Sasha blamed him for whatever was keeping the human she preferred away for so long and had quickly refused to play nice since the two were left alone.

The ribbon she had been chasing earlier lay wadded up underneath her paws, dangerously close to claws that had already swiped at Otabek’s hand once. If she was going to suffer through not having Yuri around Otabek apparently had to join her.

“What more do you want? I can’t do anything to make him come back faster,” Otabek groaned. _This is ridiculous._

Sasha grumbled from her position on the bed, her eyes flicking from Otabek to the door. No one came but there was no convincing the cat this wasn’t somehow the new visitors fault.

While there was no doubt the rest of the day could be spent arguing back and forth with the animal even Otabek had begun to get antsy. The Prince’s room felt far less welcoming than it had with the younger man’s presence and despite the fact he hadn’t been asked to leave the overwhelming feeling of being out of place was beginning to creep up on him again.

It wasn’t worth petting the bitter ball of fur goodbye. She didn’t want his attention any longer and ushered him away with one small grumble.

The rest of the palace outside, however, felt just as empty as the bedroom. While the staff seemed to make a habit out of staying sparse there was no proof anyone was even inside the building.

A cold feeling began to creep up the back of Otabek’s neck. Something outside was going very wrong.

Maybe going back to pet the rude little beast was a better use of his time.

* * *

“ _We’ll need to do something. It’s not as though we have much more to throw at them.”_

_“Try harder, try anything!”_

_“We’ve been trying! No one wants this, you know that.”_

_“Then why make me do any of it!?”_

_“We’re not making you, Yuri! No one is making you do anything. We’re just asking you to think about it. Just to buy us time to come up with something better.”_

_“You’ve had time. You’ve had nothing but time.”_

* * *

When children are raised near the mountains they’re taught to keep their voice low. Mothers tell stories of rude children who were buried by avalanches caused from their yelling.

Yuri never believed this really. His grandfather was much smarter than any village mother and would just tell him to be quiet if he raised his voice too much. There were much more satisfying ways to exhaust a body than screaming anyway.

“ _We just got word from the guard out West. They’ve moved inland.”_

His toes lost proper feeling ages ago. Anything left was squeezed out by the ribbons keeping his foot secure in the hard shoe. The quiet tapping against the wood floor was more of an indication of just now much weight he was placing down than anything else.

He spun until he couldn’t catch his breath, throwing his arms out to catch himself, strings light whipping from his fingertips to cut across the mirrored wall. Each spin left more marks. Each extension of the leg scorched the floor.

“ _He’s expressed interest in talking to you before. You’re close in age.”_

Again and again the prince moved until his legs refused to keep up with his speed.

His thighs screamed, his back rod straight, the braid in his hair falling out in strands down his back.

“ _We’re sending out troops to recover what they can now. We’re just talking about this as a precaution.”_

His arms moved faster than his leg could, whipping the bursts of light from his finger tips until he could barely see the reflection in front of him. Only green eyes stared back sharp but intact.

“ _It’s not as though he’d accept. But historically these kinds of arrangements… You should be glad we’re letting you know before hand at all.”_

For a split second he thought he saw his eyes water. The whip came down on the glass before he could tell for sure.

He stood panting, surrounded by scorch marks and broken pieces of glass. The dance studio was built as a present when he moved in. A gift from Lilia to make up for her taking over his Grandfather’s place.

And now it lay around him in pieces.

There was no use yelling at Viktor more than he had. Even Yakov had agreed with the plan the King came up with. Lilia stayed quiet, her hand gripping on Yuri’s shoulder to burn through his coat. Even Yuuri, intelligent and kind Yuuri, went along with the betrayal.

All it took was King JJ announcing his plan to break his way through the mountains for them to consider all the ways it would be possible to sell the Prince to him in an effort to keep what was left of their borders.

The magic that had protected them for so long never accounted for the young King’s ability to sway people with his words. No amount of magic would have been able to control the minds of their citizens.

As long as people left the protection of the Nikiforov’s spell willingly King JJ could order his army to follow in his wake, securing each town within seconds.

“ _Please, Yuratchka. You know how close Nikolai’s home is to the mountains. A visit there for a wedding would be much more pleasant than a funeral.”_

His body gave out before he could stop himself. His knees hitting the floor as his hands covered his mouth to hold back the sob that threatened to come out.

Nikolai Plisetsky, the one weakness of the Prince, punctuated the final words of betrayal. Yuri could scream, destroy rooms, ruin his body, but the knowledge that his grandfather was all but waiting for a visit from King Leroy would keep him alive. He’d have given his soul to protect the last bit of family he had left.

And as luck may have it, that was exactly what he was being asked to do.

He lay on the floor crumbled in on himself until his body went numb and his mind went blank. He’d worked through how to handle when the weight of his position got too heavy years ago. While Viktor would grin and bear it Yuri wound up in rooms like the studio, fighting with anything he saw until there was nothing left.

As far as coping mechanisms went it wasn’t the best but it worked. Sasha would occasionally chirp her disapproval from the doorway by the time his temper settled but this time she was no where to be found.

Instead the deafening quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps too heavy to belong to a cat.

Quickly Yuri pulled himself up, forcing the pieces of glass into a corner with the snap of his fingers. It was pointless thinking up an excuse for the state of the room so he simply stood, waiting for whoever wanted to wander to pass by.

At the initial sight of a shaved head Yuri’s stomach lurched, only calming when he didn’t connect the stoic face to the shit eating grin he had been focused on. The stocky figure slowed for a moment, the disarray in the room catching his attention as he walked by.

Within seconds the two men locked eyes. Every god be damned for whatever gave soldiers expressions Yuri couldn’t read.

Yuri couldn’t risk breaking first and instead bowed his head in an attempt at being civil. Otabek’s expression shifted to something else Yuri didn’t recognize. He broke first, a small victory before Yuri noticed his glance moving to the the broken mirror and the marks on the floor.

As a strategy standing in the middle of ones mess was probably not the best way to seem innocent.

Locking doors before having a moment was probably another good idea he had neglected.

“Are you okay?” Worry flooded Otabek’s voice as he stood at the front of the room, his eyes fixed once again on the Prince.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Yuri turned away, focusing on one piece of glass left on the wall big enough to see his hair in. His hands braiding everything back neatly to hide their tremoring. “Just practicing. Got a little carried away.”

The solider didn’t respond right away but Yuri could feel his gaze burning into his back.

Solider’s shouldn’t have been taught to see through lies, or to challenge royalty. A knight maybe but knights were for fairytales and Yuri hadn’t read one since he was a child.

“I was going for a walk. Since your cat doesn’t like me.” Yuri nearly missed a strand of hair at the casualness in Otabek’s voice. “Can I ask you to show me around?”

“I don’t want to walk around the castle.” Yuri replied carefully.

“Outside is fine too. Wherever you like to go.”

Yuri turned, moving his hair to his shoulder as he finished the braid. Otabek’s dark eyes were as intense as ever but his expression was softer. Almost. Yuri was going to assume that’s what soft looked like on him anyway.

“I need a guard to leave the grounds.”

Yes, softer was the best word for it. Softness mixed with something else Yuri couldn’t quite place that grounded him. Like the presence of the other man tethered him to the ground because he knew how easy it would be to spiral out of orbit again.

“If I can fight in your name out there I think I can manage to guard you from old women looking to change your clothes.” No man should be allowed to speak as calmly as he did about things. Yuri decided. If he ever lived to see himself on the throne he’d put that on the list of things to do after destroying any reminder’s of Viktor’s reign.

“The women in town love my clothes.” Otabek almost smiled at this and for a brief moment Yuri forgot about anything frustrating him besides how stoic the man remained. “But fine. Okay, whatever. It’ll be nice to not be here.”

Otabek nodded as if he understood. He didn’t but it also didn’t seem like a complete lie. He understood something about the ruined room and whatever look was still on Yuri’s face. No wonder Sasha didn’t like him. He was unnerving even Yuri, and he had grown up attending banquets thrown by Lord Giacometti.

Still, Yuri allowed him to help him back into his coat as they both ignored the small hesitation in the shorter man’s hand as he fixed the Prince’s braid to lay on top of the fur. Their bodies separating before either could acknowledge any physical closeness as Yuri led the way out.

Otabek followed close behind, not close enough as to touch him again, but there. Anchoring Yuri down to earth any time he glanced to his shoulder.

He’d never quite been thankful of being followed before.

* * *

Having sisters did many things for Otabek. Understanding when to not bring up topics became a necessity after his older sister’s first serious relationship ended. Knowing when distractions are better than talking became a valuable skill when his younger sister was worried about her schooling.

He used to think his ability to handle his own hair was the most valuable thing. As Yuri trudged through the snow behind, however, him he couldn’t help but be thankful for the patients his father said would come in handy. He doubted he had assumed it’d be in this scenario, but that was beside the point.

“That’s one of the Babushka’s. If you want something hot to eat her stuff is always good.” Yuri quietly listed off attributes of the city as they walked, his eyes avoiding focusing on anything for too long. “In the summer though there’s a vendor in the park. They have good tea.”

Otabek nodded, doing his best to keep from glancing over to the other man.

“I didn't think you got summer this far north.”

“We do. Sometimes. We haven’t had a real one in a long time.” Yuri slowed down, hugging his coat tighter to his body. “Some people think that’s what happen when a kingdom starts dying. Which is stupid. Kingdom’s don’t die. Just Kings and shit.”

_Not a good topic, okay, find something new._

“It’s a nice change of pace. Summers back home are too hot.” Otabek kept walking, making sure to go slow enough to allow the Prince to keep up.

He didn’t respond but they were at least on equal footing again. The sound of snow underneath followed them up to a courtyard, the clear line of enchantments around the ground keeping anything from sticking past the brick.

No one beside them seemed to want to brave the weather, or they simply had better things to do than wander through gray cobblestone. 

“That sounds terrible. You’d sweat through your clothes.” The bitterness in Yuri’s voice wasn’t addressed to anything in particular, but that was as good progress as any.

“You do. Lots of training happens shirtless.”

“So sorry to make you wear things.”

“I don’t mind, but I’ve heard it’s a loss for others.” For a moment Yuri almost smiled. He knew he wasn’t any good at being charming or suave but if making a fool of himself helped in anyway it was worth a shot.

“That what your girlfriend told you?” Yuri tried to tease. The hesitation in his voice almost giving way to concern.

Otabek was beginning to think he really wasn’t good with jokes.

“Would it be better to lie and say yes or say it was my mother?”

Yuri snorted, covering his mouth quickly before recovering. “Never had a girlfriend say that? Really?”

“Never had a girlfriend.” Why this was the topic Yuri wanted to focus on Otabek couldn’t say for certain. He had ideas, but none that were worth entertaining. His job was to keep the Prince distracted. He could suffer in silence later.

“Huh.” Yuri replied, stopping for a moment to look the shorter man over, the spark in his eyes returning for a moment. “Not your type?”

“Not my type.” Obviously the question was asked out of simple curiosity. Anything for a distraction.

Yuri simply nodded, his eyes scanning over the other man for a moment longer. To Otabek’s surprise he looked more innocent than before. Delicate wouldn’t be the right word, but cautious maybe. As if he was considering what to say next more than he had the rest of their conversation.

“Have you ever had piroshki, Beka?”

 

So they sat, huddled in the corner of an old hole in the wall restaurant. The Babushka in charge had almost asked to take Yuri’s coat off his hands before noticing his mood in a way only a grandparent could. The two exchanged quiet Russian before Yuri explained food would be on its way.

The regularity of the routine was almost concerning, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Namely the way Yuri didn’t seem to notice how much he was leaning against Otabek’s shoulder through the fur of his coat.

“The cook can make some at home, but the best comes from Babushkas. Or Dedushkas but there aren’t many of them running stores around here. Everyone’s too young.” Yuri said, gripping the cup of tea close to his chest to warm himself up.

Otabek nodded, focused more on the way Yuri’s breath pushed the steam from his cup around than the conversation. The fur to his left brushing against his arm as the taller man settled in his seat.

“You say that like you’re not.”

Yuri hmphed into his cup as he went to take a sip. The pout on his lips visible regardless of the spotty lighting.

“I’m twenty and I’ve been doing this for about half of that. I feel like I’m eighty.” Otabek wouldn’t mention how young the pout made him seem.

“They made you Prince when you were ten?”

“My grandfather knows the royal advisor from some time before he was ancient. I’ve always been able to do magic so we were just waiting for Viktor to no longer need the old man to hover over him.” Yuri’s gaze traveled down to the cup, his body pressed against Otabek’s without any awareness of it. “They didn’t want to give me a title until they were sure I’d be a decent heir. Since it must be so hard to walk around smiling and gawking at the other Yuuri all day like Viktor does.”

“I’d think it’d hurt your cheeks after a while.”

He felt Yuri’s chuckle before he heard it. Soft and quiet but there. And, god help him, actually leaned back against him when it settled. Maybe he thought he was a part of the seating fixture. He wasn’t about to mention it, or move and risk disrupting him.

It was like having a cat sleeping on his lap. A cat with all the volatile emotions topped off with an uncanny ability to make it hard for Otabek to breath evenly.

“Probably would.” Yuri smiled, either unaware or just unbothered by their closeness.

The smell of warm pastries and savory filling came as Otabek’s saving grace, pulling Yuri away from his side as soon as the plates hit the table. The warm shadow of the other man lingered against Otabek’s arm.

Before he had a chance to brush the feeling off a warm bun was being shoved towards his face. Yuri’s eyes sparkling expectantly. The offering steaming pleasantly in his direction.

“Come on, you eat them with your hands. Take a bite. They’re better warm.” Yuri beamed, gripping Otabek’s chest with unspeakable magic.

Their finger tips brushed for a split second as he reached out to take the pastry. Their eyes met for a moment, Yuri’s focus wavering long enough to acknowledge the hand on his own before pulling away. His smooth movements betrayed just barely by the pink tinge spreading across the tips of his ears.

At least Otabek wasn’t the only person susceptible to the other man’s magic.

It only took seconds before the Prince’s focus was back on the pastries. Had there not been a risk of him soiling his coat Otabek was almost certain he would’ve swallowed the thing whole.

And while he did have to admit the food was far more delicious than anything expected he found himself unable to think in full sentences after watching Yuri’s tongue drag across his thumb when a bit of sauce dripped down.

At the sight of Yuri’s smile when he was caught he nearly forgot his own name.

“Sorry. Not a very regal food huh?”

Otabek could only shrug, shoving a bite in his mouth to save himself.

“Its worth it though. I’d eat this stuff every day if I could.” Yuri thought for a moment. “Well, at least once a day. Maybe not breakfast.”

How someone so striking and talented could ever appear so innocent Otabek could not understand. The fur around his neck was absolutely supposed to intimidate others, to show his rank. But at the moment the only thing he could think of was how much it looked like he was cocooning himself in the rich fabrics.

He’d spend the rest of his time in the capital eating whatever fried food made the other man so at peace if he had to.

“If that’s what makes you happy. You deserve to be happy.” Otabek said matter-of-factly.

Beside him Yuri paused, his eyes scanning over the other man as if trying to translate what he had just said into terms that made sense. His guard thankfully stayed down, but the look of awe left linger in it’s place was almost more heartbreaking than if he had just turned away.

“I am.” He said in defense. Then, choosing his words more carefully. “I’m happy here.”

_Happy with you_ , lingered in the air between them.

Neither were able to focus on what was left of the food in front of them.

“You shouldn’t have to hide in an old woman’s restaurant to be happy, Yuri.” The sound of the Prince’s name on his tongue surprised them both. Their eyes locked onto one another in the dim light.

“You don’t get to decide when and where I need to be happy.” The defiance in Yuri’s voice faltered as he became aware of how close the two were sitting.

“I’m not deciding anything. I think you deserve to enjoy life… and I don’t think that room ending up like that comes from having fun sober.”

“What if I wasn’t sober?”

“Then I could see it. But you were, and are.” Otabek could tell Yuri wanted to look away, he was close to hitting a nerve but he’d come too far to give up now. “I’m not asking for why. I don’t need to know. I just want to do what I can to keep it from happening again.”

For a moment Yuri seemed posed to snap back, the beginning of ‘ _why do you care_ ’ forming on his lips before he shifted in his seat. The side of Otabek’s arm bumping against the front of his coat.

Otabek turned to accommodate the other, winding up face to face with the younger man, leaving them both frozen in place.

“…You can’t.” Yuri managed to get out, his eyes scanning across the other’s face for an escape route before landing on his lips. “Unless you’re willing to kidnap me, but you’re too good a solider for that aren’t you?”

“I’m not entirely sure about that.”

Someone leaned forward first, neither of them were aware enough to be sure of who. They sat a hair’s breath apart, the warmth spilling off Yuri’s coat mingling in the air between them.

Green eyes darted from pink lips to brown eyes. A strand of blonde hair brushing against Otabek’s cheek in a gentle caress. No one moved. No one even dared to breath.

“When do you leave?” Yuri asked quietly, making no move to pull back.

The smell of his shampoo, or perfume, or just him, was intoxicating.

“As soon as you’d like me to…” Otabek tried to keep himself from glancing down to the other man’s lips. The emerald eyes locked on his were dangerous enough on their own.

Something was muttered in Russian to quiet for Otabek to pick up on. A small pressure on the side of his leg alerting him to Yuri bracing himself to move. Forward or backward he wasn’t sure.

“Leave tomorrow. You have people to get back to I’m sure.” The blonde man considered something for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. “But, if I need a proper guard, can I ask for you?”

Otabek nodded, regretting his glance down to the other’s mouth automatically. “Of course.”

Yuri nodded, leaning back for a moment before changing his mind. With a practiced gentleness he moved to kiss the other man’s cheek.

While both men knew it was meant as a formal acknowledgement of rank. Knew that it was to be two kisses one on either side of Otabek’s face in blessing. They some how never made it past the first kiss.

In the endless seconds where Yuri hovered above Otabek’s mouth to make his way to the other side they seemed to forget anything about what they were doing, opting instead to lean into one another.

If someone could be burned alive from the inside out, Otabek was sure he would be one of the firsts. His hand barely having time to move to steady Yuri’s arm before the other man pulled away; emerald eyes unreadable as his face flushed deep red.

“Good. I’ll hold you to that.” The tremor in the Prince’s voice matching the speed at which Otabek’s heart threatening to jump out his throat.

He nodded, the only response he could manage past pulling Yuri back for another kiss.

Neither of them moved however, until long after the food went cold.

* * *

_“Our kingdom isn’t dying, contrary to what you might have heard from the Leroy’s. Kingdoms don’t die. Your faith in your King may waver but we can assure you, I’m still here. I have a wedding to plan after all.”_

_The crowd chuckled._

_“Young Yuri even, already has plans for the longevity of his reign. Like many people he’s only ever known our relationship to our neighbors to be tense. Neither of us had wanted things to turn out like they have but we have very little control over young spitfire Kings.”_

_The crowd murmured in acknowledgement, the camera’s turning to focus on the youngerman poised gracefully beside the King._

_“It’s with great consideration that we bring you all here today. As I’m sure you know I like to keep with both the Yuri’s say to myself. Today, however, I find it important to let you hear from the Prince himself. Seeing as young Leroy is no doubt watching. Or at least has hired other people to watch for him.”_

_More agreement, quieted only when the Prince changed places with the King at the podium._

_His eyes were glued to the prompter before him, his entire body rod straight as he tried to find his voice._

_“I’m not here to mince words. His majesty has done quiet enough of that. I want… I’m here for King Leroy. Wherever he’s watching this it’s too far in our lands, too close to things he has no right touching. We are willing to protect all that by force, if need be. But. Given that means death for both sides the King and I have agreed to offer this one deal. The war halts. The territory is returned.”_

_Yuri paused, the resolve in his body wavering for just a moment at the line projected before him._

_“And in exchange, we offer my hand in marriage.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any and all kudos and comments are super appreciated <3
> 
> Also I'm on tumblr! hmu pls I need validation https://annacaterninina.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

There were a fair amount of things that were never supposed to happen.

Firstly, Otabek wasn’t supposed to have kissed the Prince, or been kissed by him.

Secondly, he was never supposed to relay that information to Yusef when asked why he was taking so long returning.

And thirdly, most important of all, he was not supposed to watch the news when he reached his train car.

He failed to do any of the aforementioned things.

_“And in exchange, we offer my hand in marriage.”_ Played on repeat, on every station, in any language possible. As if the world wanted nothing more than to see how many times it would take before the man threw himself out the window.

Yuri had offered warning in his own way. A quiet goodbye, neither acknowledging what had happened in the restaurant, both too focused on each other’s mouths. He had heard the request, “ _Get some rest, the stations they play aren’t worth it anyway.”_ He just assumed that was the Blonde Prince’s way of being caring.

He couldn’t remember ever being so wrong.

Three more loops of the speech played before the commentators began debating what caused the announcement. Some even beginning to suggest the young man had thought of it himself because of his habit to enjoy men just to spite the King.

Otabek turned off the screen before he could hear anything else.

His heart was beating faster than he thought healthy until his body went numb. The reality of the situation finally settling.

Yuri knew, had known the entire day, that he would be making the announcement. Whatever feelings he had wrapped up in the situation he kept to himself while Otabek offered a distraction. A distraction that wound up with them pressed against each other in a dim restaurant booth until Otabek forgot his own name.

How he let himself believe that was anything more than a a convenient distraction for a man like him he would never understand. Men like Yuri were never meant for slow, love sick soldiers like himself. He should be thankful he was allowed any part of the Prince before he went on to someone closer to his own rank. Even if that someone had been nothing but a menace for the rest of the Kingdom. The challenge in taming someone like that was probably far more exciting than someone so infatuated they failed to speak more than two sentences around him.

His phone pinged by his side, congratulations from Yusef and his sister flowing before they attempted to redact their statements. Apologies. Then silence.

There weren’t really words to express someone you finally get to hold running off to someone else anyway.

* * *

“You did well on camera today. I didn’t see you scowling once.”

Sasha settled herself on her partners lap as he lounged with his feet propped up on a desk. His hand ghosting through her fur without acknowledgment of ever being addressed.

“…People are even saying you were respectable. That friend of Yuuri’s was very impressed.”

Again no response.

“…Yuratchka you can’t ignore us all forever I am trying to be patient here,” the advisor sighed, adding more worry lines to his already wrinkled forehead. “You wont even let Viktor into the room he’s starting to mope.”

“Let him I don’t care,” Yuri snapped, eyes focused on the ball of fur in his lap.

The older man sighed again, sitting down in the chair across from the petulant young man. Yakov had seen far too much to be slighted by any behavior really. Viktor at Yuri’s age was a whole other kind of problem. Always bouncing off the walls, trying to see what new ridiculous idea he could get away with. Yuri had been like that too in his own way. But this, this was a problem even Lilia would’ve wanted to avoid with the boy.

“Fine we’ll let him mope. Let him enjoy planning the rest of that ridiculous wedding of his until Yuuri finally talks sense into him to have the damn thing be private to give the rest of us a break.” Yuri shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with any mention of marriage. “You need to pull yourself together though. There hasn’t even been an answer yet.”

“…There wont be you and Lilia swore he’d turn it down. That’s not the point. You still made me say it.” His eyes remained downcast, keeping him from having to focus on the fact he wasn’t alone in his suffering.

“You’ve said much worse things on camera before. And once again, no one was making you.”

“You can’t mention that asshole being so close to home and not call that blackmail! What am I supposed to do? Let him kill everyone!?” The blonde’s eyes snapped up, locking on the older man with the ferocity of a cornered animal. “What other choice were you giving me?”

Yakov softened, knowing better than to push the boy in his state. Carefully he considered what to say next. The emerald eyes before him demanding an answer.

“We can still fight him off. You’re spells are getting stronger and Viktor can still manage some. We’ve been through wars before. This is just a casualty free option,” Yakov said, watching Yuri, praying for him to relax. “But we still don’t have hope in him accepting the proposal. So this just gives time for those soldiers to heal. We’ll have a better chance when men like that boy you were speaking to can use your little protection spells against more than railroad thugs.”

Yuri nodded for a moment before his hand stalled, causing Sasha to complain. His eyes moving from Yakov quickly. A cord had been struck and he was already in too delicate a state to disguise it.

“…Yuri?” Concern crept out in Yakov’s voice as he obviously noticed the change in demeanor.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied quickly, doing his best to recover, looking back to the older man. “Their soldiers they know that’s their job.”

Yakov nodded, keeping a close eye on the boy trying to puff his chest out enough to recover appearances. “Yes, they do. But still, we wouldn’t have their loyalty if we didn’t care enough to let them rest… Speaking of. You could use some. Away from Vitya tearing the place apart to find a shade of blue that’ll match his eyes.”

“That’s why I’m here. In what world is Viktor actually going to use the study to do real work?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it… Go visit Nikolai. I’m sure he’s seen the broadcast by now… You both deserve to talk about it in person. And I know you miss that old cat of yours. Bring something of Vitya’s and let him piss on it.”

A small smile flickered across the boys face as he looked back down to Sasha. His hand moving to scratch her ears as she vibrated contently.

“Potya would like that… But you know Mila and Georgi will have a heart attack if they see me ‘disrespecting the king again.’ and the other guards are boring as shit,” Yuri said before adding, much quieter, “I’ll just call Gramps.”

Yakov shook his head, clearing his throat to get the Prince’s attention back. “No. You’ll visit him. If I can’t explain things to him in person you will. I’m not being cursed by that old man. You’ll just have to find a different guard.” Yuri opened his mouth to complain, being stopped by Yakov raising a hand. “That solider was around your age. And as much of a delinquent as he looks like, he at least respects the crown more than you do. He’ll do it if we ask.”

Yuri froze, not wanting to explain all the reasons Yakov was wrong. Wanting more than anything to forget how quickly he threw away the chance to have someone around just for himself.

“…yeah. I can ask. But when he’s busy I’ll just call. Gramps will understand.”

* * *

He was busy, in a sense. Busy ignoring the fact the world around him continued to exist maybe. Busy ignoring the very persistent Yusef, absolutely.

It was hard to not be thankful for the friends who had stayed by his side throughout school, training, and his short lived time on the field. It was just equally hard not being frustrated with the amount of questions that came as soon as he entered the apartment.

_“Did you know? Did he tell you before he kissed you? Are you gonna be like, his mistress now?”_

Otabek made a note to find less talkative friends in the future.

From his position in bed he could hear the other shuffling around the apartment. The smell of chai boiling was a not so subtle attempt at comfort, followed by the old music his father tried to turn both the boys onto before they left. He had to commend his friend for trying.

He had almost allowed himself to relax when the music was cut off by an incoming call. Yusef, most likely fending off one of their other friend’s questions, answered.

The words were too distant to hear in full, only bits of the conversation making their way to his room.

“It’s not like the information is private…No not you…I don’t know you.”

That peaked his curiosity.

“He’s busy right now I can take a message. Or a picture. I’m sure he’d like pictures of you.”

Otabek moved a little faster, moving around the corner quietly to try and get a glimpse of the caller. Yusef’s broad frame conveniently blocked a majority of the screen from where he stood.

“Why would he— god you are so weird. Listen I know this is where he lives unless he’s lying on his census.” Otabek peered in to the kitchen, catching a brief glimpse of blonde hair on the screen coming from Yusef’s phone. The scowling face that followed froze him in place. “But I get it. He’s busy. Forget I called.”

“Like I’m doing that, I’m saving this number. I’m sure I’ll need a get out of jail free card eventually.” Yuri’s contorted in annoyance as he moved to end the call.

Seeing the movement at the bottom of the screen Otabek lurched forward, his body working faster than his brain could come up with an explanation as the two men stopped their bickering long enough to acknowledge him. Yusef’s tan face lit up in excitement. Yuri’s seemed to pale even further.

“…You were busy,” the Prince pointed out quietly.

“Yes.” Yuri leaned back on the screen, obviously bracing himself for something worse to follow. “I took a break.”

It wasn’t a good lie, but it was simple enough to work. 

“…oh. Okay. I’ll um, forget I called I was just making sure you got back alright. Your phone must’ve died, or been turned off, or something. This line was the only other one with the same address—Yakov gave it to me I wasn’t looking or anything,” Yuri rambled, averting his eyes.

To his left Yusef seemed to be absorbing every awkward word with glee. In other cases Otabek might have found this reassuring. Always grateful for the knowledge that anyone was watching out for him. But seeing the distress on Yuri’s face ruined any enjoyment for him.

With one stern nudge he ushered the other man out of the room, refusing to let off until the door to the other’s bedroom had been firmly closed.

Yuri hadn’t seemed to even notice.

“Why did you call, your highness?” The formality fell awkwardly on Otabek’s tongue.

The blonde straightened automatically. His lips turning down at the mention of his rank. There were no furs to be seen and his hair had been pulled back into a bun, he looked more like a student than any kind of ruler. Had Otabek not known better he would’ve thought he was trying to do anything he could to avoid his position.

“I told you before to call me Yuri,” he said, green eyes flicking up to try and read the other’s face.

Otabek crossed his arms, too confused to have time arguing about things that would only make his situation more uncomfortable.

With a small defeated sigh, the younger man continued. “Look… I’m guessing you’ve seen the whole speech by now… nothing is… we haven’t heard from him. I didn’t want to— I don’t want to actually go through with it. But he’s close to people I need safe… and I’m sure plenty of other soldiers need a rest like you.” The green eyes softened for a moment. “I understand if it’s best for me to just end the call.”

It was. Otabek didn’t need an explanation. They weren’t anything that deserved an expiation. They were one confused kiss. And yet—

“No. Don’t… I… You didn’t just call to explain that did you?” Being as blunt as ever seemed like the best strategy at the moment. The last thing he wanted was to admit to something that wasn’t there or something that shouldn’t be.

“No,” Yuri said. For a moment he almost seemed disappointed in Otabek’s response. “No I um. I need to ask a favor. You can say no if you want. It’s not an official order or anything just… well if you’re still up for being my guard. I need to get out of here for a while.”

The boy on the screen looked too delicate, too unsure of himself, to actually be Yuri Plisetsky. Had Sasha’s furry grey head not been visible in the corner of the screen he would’ve assumed this was all an elaborate prank to try and fix his mood.

“If you think that’s smart.” Yuri worried his lip for a moment, urging Otabek to continue. “… I can.”

Yuri sighed. Audibly sighed in relief. Otabek’s chest clenched despite himself.

“Thank you. I can send you the nearest train stop. I’ll meet you there. The village is a way out so it’ll take a bit.” The younger boy smiled before sensing Otabek’s mood. “We can forget anything happened. If you want.”

He didn’t. He nodded anyway.  
“I’ll see you there.”

* * *

Every passing stranger, every brunette, hell anyone remotely muscular turned Yuri’s head.

He had barely been waiting at the station for five minutes before a thousand ways he could be left alone started to run through his head. Otabek had said they should forget anything happened. Otabek was a more dignified person than him. Otabek wouldn’t touch him as long as he knew there was a chance he’d be breaking some kind of unspoken rule between fiancés, if that’s even what they were.

Regardless he was too good a person to agree to spend an indefinite amount of time babysitting the Prince. Especially if said Prince had already made it clear he was impulsive enough to make the job more than a little difficult to keep professional.

It was understandable then, that the quiet “ _Yura”_ coming from the crowd behind him almost made him jump out of his skin.

He turned quickly, scanning the crowd until the familiar warm face came into view. If anyone ever tried to accuse him of being excited about anything he’d deny it. At the moment, however, he was finding it very difficult to breathe steady.

“You came,” he said, slipping up for a moment. “Good I couldn’t hold the train longer.”

True to form Otabek didn’t have much to say, opting instead to nod before walking up to follow the other man on board.

Yuri however, had been too focused on the slight bags under the other’s eyes to remember to move.

They both paused, standing just slightly too close to be considered casual. The fur around Yuri’s neck almost seeming to ruffle when it’s wearer noticed the distance. Both men tried to clear their throat, moving quickly to the train car before they had to hold the other responsible.

This might be more difficult to ignore than Yuri thought.

The royal cabin was built to house dozens of dignitaries, made for long journeys across the kingdom to discuss all sorts of matters. Yuuri had joked on his first ride that it was big enough to live in which caused all kinds of distress for Viktor.

With the two men sitting across from each other, however, the room seemed impossibly small.

Otabek had resigned himself to watching the scenery flash by, his small bag tucked politely underneath his seat despite there being no real reason to save space. Yuri, however, was far more interested in just how sharp the tan jawline looked in profile.

He had been so focused on the food and his own troubles to get the chance to take a good look at the other mans face. What he had meant as a glance soon became unabashed staring. He was so mesmerized by the stark change in texture on his hair he had barely noticed when he being spoken to.

“—been this far West.” Otabek had tried to start a conversation. He had bothered breaking the silence and Yuri was so busy staring he hadn’t even noticed. He was almost as bad as Viktor.

He cringed at the thought.

“Oh yeah it’s great,” he said quickly, trying to ignore the confusion on Otabek’s face. Something about his response wasn’t appropriate. He was not about to acknowledge that. “I grew up out here. The mountains are great in fall.”

“…ah,” Otabek replied, trying to follow Yuri’s logic. “It was winter when we were sent out. War and snow probably make them harder to appreciate.”

How Viktor managed to blank out for so many moments and not wind up hating himself Yuri could not understand.

“Oh, right. Were you um, hurt on one of the ones nearby?” he asked carefully.

Otabek simply shrugged, turning this gaze back to the window to watch more snow covered trees rush by. “Maybe. I don’t remember much about it.”

“How bad was it?” Yuri blurted out before he could stop himself.

Across from him the other man stilled, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular until he glanced over to where the Prince was perched. Dark eyes wavering for a moment before a hand rubbed agains the side of his jacket absentmindedly. The phantom pains resurfacing at their mere mention.

“It didn’t kill me,” he muttered. “Knocked me out, left a nasty scar, but I didn’t feel most of it and forgot a lot about it healing.”

“Can I see?” Both men froze, not knowing if they should curse the younger mans impulsivity.

To both their surprise Otabek stood, laying his jacket on the seat before lifting his shirt enough to show the rough line moving from his hip up to somewhere on his ribs under the remainder of his shirt.

Yuri regretted his request the moment he got what he asked.

Otabek’s body was chiseled in a way he had never seen in person before. Yuuri had been the only solider he was close enough with to admire physically and he had always been more of a muscle under fluctuating amounts of chub. Viktor’s body, while entirely an unnecessary thing for him to see ever, was leaner, built to move in the smooth sustained motions needed to cast a spell. His own body had followed suit the second he hit puberty.

But the tanned wall of a man standing before him nearly took his breath away. Each muscle defined by years of training to take and deal a punch. He was certain he cloud carry Yuri as though he weighed nothing despite the inches he had over the man.

The tight line of puckered skin only made the tight muscle underneath more noticeable.

Had he been a lesser man he might have been salivating. Might.

“Does it hurt anymore?” he managed after a moment.

The other man shrugged, the muscles on his side shifting ever so slightly.

“Not really. It looks worse than it is. It burns a little if it’s stretched too far but that’s just because it’s still healing up.” Otabek lowered his shirt, unaware of the quiet curses running through Yuri’s head.

“That’s good, I suppose.” Yuri shifted in his seat, leaning forward to try and get the slightest bit closer to the other man. “If it burns while we’re out, I might know a spell or two to calm it down. If you want.”

Otabek stared at him, the dark eyes completely unreadable from a distance. “It wouldn’t burn enough to deserve a whole dance. That seems like a lot of work.”

“Not all spells are need dances. Some are smaller,” Yuri explained, the faintest idea popping into his head. “Here, give me your hand.”

Yuri was an expert at faking casual confidence. The request almost sounded off hand. Otabek, however, was still reluctant. The space between them closing slow enough to let the act waver before the other extended a hand, his eyes flicking between Yuri’s and the open palm.

Carefully he took the rough hand in his own, doing his best to ignore the fact he was eye level with the now covered abdomen he had just been ogling. Small marks adorned the tanned hand, gentle reminders of training days or field work.

The amount of will power it took to just focus on tracing small movements above the bigger marks was embarrassing but he pushed on. Flecks of with light danced from his finger tips to the skin below, shimmering on the surface as they did their work. The faintest gasp came from above but he didn’t dare look up until his work was done. He knew all too well how easy it would be to forget himself if he locked onto those warm brown eyes again.

With great care he covered the top of Otabek’s hand with his own, evening out the white light before letting it fade. The cool tingle of magic dancing between them. At least he was blaming the magic. He wasn’t about to admit to anything else.

Neither man went to move their hand away when Yuri looked up to try and say something sharp. He smiled wryly but nothing came. Instead they remained as they were, standing and sitting, with the faint knowledge that Yuri would only be in a slightly lower position if in moved to his knees dancing across both their minds before their hands were yanked apart.

Otabek moved first, moving back to admire Yuri’s handy work, his eyes feverishly scanning for any left over scaring to occupy himself.

Yuri remained where he was, doing his best to keep his eyes from returning to any spot in particular on the other man. 

The ride to his grandfathers was bound to take at least another hour.

He prayed he could survive that long before asking to touch more.

* * *

It was well past sundown by the time they made their way to the old cottage. Otabek had expected something huge and foreboding to make a child like Yuri. It didn’t seem possible he could’ve come from anywhere else.

Yet the old, small village house, placed at the end of a road with plenty empty space around it seemed almost quaint. It should’ve produced happy children who baked pies and married their school sweethearts.

Maybe that was a person Yuri had wanted to be. Maybe it was the magic that hardened him. Or maybe quaint villages were only tolerable when you weren’t required to live the rest of your life inside them.

Something in Otabek’s stomach made him believe the latter to be true.

Yuri had barley knocked on the door when it swung open, an older man staring down at the younger, neither man acknowledging anything past the doorstep. Something was said in Russian too quickly for him to understand before Yuri practically through himself into the other’s arms.

It was almost too private a scene to watch. The faintest sound of an apology came from Yuri’s mouth before Otabek turned. He knew better than to eavesdrop on family matters.

Suddenly the snow around the house became incredibly interesting. Then the bare trees. Even what looked like an old path towards what looked like a frozen over river.

If it hadn’t been for a piercing meow of complaint Otabek found it hard to believe Yuri would’ve moved on his own. Instead he jumped back, releasing the older man in order to tend to an raggedy old cat that had made their way to the door.

Still not a conversation he was involved in, but at least one he could enjoy.

“Potya, oh you grumpy old man. Has Dedushka not been feeding you enough? Did he try to make you catch mice again?” Yuri cooed as he knelt down to scoop the cat into his arms. “You poor baby. How have you survived?”

The other man simply rolled his eyes. Without a glance back to the two he began to move to hold of Yuri’s bags. Otabek jerked forward on instinct, picking up everything on his own before the old man could be bothered.

There were probably better ways to meet someone.

“Oh. You’re not Georgi,” the older man observed.

“No, sir,” Otabek said quickly. “No I’m here to help Yura along.”

The older man crossed his arms, crooking one eyebrow. His eyes matched Yuri’s. Granted they didn’t have the same ferocity and they didn’t glisten nearly as brightly, but there was no question he was family. 

“Yura, huh?” For a moment it seemed like the man smirked as he looked Otabek over before moving back inside the house. “Just bring the bags. He’ll be busy with that old cat of his until one of them wants food.”

Otabek could only nod in response, walking into the house as carefully as possible. Automatically it struck him as familiar. The same dim, warm lighting that had trickled through the Babushka’s restaurant found it’s way into the house’s halls. The faint smell of pastries and spiced liquor etched into the floor.

It would’ve been comforting enough to even make Otabek homesick.

“You can call me Nikolai if you need. The couch was big enough for the old guard so you should fit.” The older man kept his attention on Yuri cradling the cat more than the stranger in his living room. “…I think I know why you’re here. So we’re not talking about anything until you’ve both slept. Food will be ready in the morning.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Neither man seemed to bother watching the other during their exchange. The sight of Yuri’s tired face softening enough to dote on an old ball of fur was far more interesting than anything else they could’ve said anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!  
> Also up next- JJ's grand entrance. As the boy deserves.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://annacaterninina.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

There were two kinds of mornings.

Mornings where the world all but drags you out of bed and every part of the body aches for known and unknown reasons; and mornings where the lights are soft, the sheets are warm, and time moves slow enough to accommodate your waking.

Somehow, by some miracle, the little cottage tucked in the mountain side was only capable of the second kind.

By the time the bags—mainly Yuri’s— had touched the floor the man in question was already locking himself up in a bedroom, muttering something quick to the old man now tasked with showing Otabek a couch that obviously was not designed to be used as a bed. Nikolai Plisetsky established himself as a man of little words quickly and Otabek had to respect that. He might have preferred to be offered some sort of guest room, but judging by the fact the house seemed just big enough for the man and the cat he doubted such a room existed.

Despite his rather cramped sleeping situation he woke rested and judging by the quiet around him, well before either Plisetsky.

With a stretch he began to take in the small cottage. It, like the Babushka’s restaurant, was covered in old memorabilia foreign to Otabek. Patterns sown into tapestries next to photographs far older than anything he owned. Family homes were rarely so quaint anymore. Most people had either moved to crowded modern cities, or like Otabek’s family, prided themselves on their ability to keep up with the world as it changed.

It made sense then, that a boy who could still cast spells like the old stories was related to a man who owned a television still attached to the wall unit and books with embossed covers for practicality rather than aesthetics.

Maybe this is what the Leroy’s meant when they called the territory a dying Kingdom.

He forced the thought out of his mind as fast as it came.

The last thing he wanted to do was even consider the Leroy’s. Or the fact Yuri wasrisking selling himself off to them. Or the fact he kissed Otabek knowing he was going to take such a risk. Or, most importantly, the fact he continued to let him hover as if nothing about the first two facts would ever be in conflict.

Suddenly Otabek questioned whoever was in charge of teaching the prince decision making. It seemed to have been skipped over in favor of lessons on how to look pretty and intimidating at the same time. He’d make a point to try and remember to bring it up when he had enough caffeine in his system to function properly.

In the meantime, however, he became rather preoccupied with the small scratching noise coming from one of the closed doors.

His eyes narrowed slightly in an attempt to find the source. All he could really discern from the distant being a small tuft of grey hair flicking out from under the door.

_Ah the cat. It want’s breakfast, too._ He thought, without quite considering who’s room it had gotten itself locked in.

Being the good samaritan he was he moved to free the old thing. Quietly opening the door before it walked past with an ungrateful indifference. That should’ve been the end of the task. If anything he should’ve focused his energy on finding out how to feed the poor thing.

The faint glow of blonde hair strewn out across a pale blue pillow, however, suddenly became incredibly more interesting.

He wasn’t prying. Not purposefully anyway. His intentions had been pure. It wasn’t his fault he forgot for a moment how to make his body move or how to properly close a door.

Instead he let his gaze linger, taking in what he could only assume was a rare sight. Yuri Plisetsky free of all royal airs, features softened, almost innocent in the safety of his childhood room.

Otabek was intruding. His brain slowly registered the situation as it tried to come up with escape plans. Because somehow “Back up, close door, return to couch” was too complicated.

Just as he was beginning to grasp the “Back up” part of the plan Yuri stirred, freezing him in place again. Realistically he couldn’t have been moving loud enough to wake the other man, had he been panicking less he might’ve been able to notice the cat size dent on the other side of the pillow. He might have been able to continue backing away to just let the other fall back to sleep.

He might have, but for a solider he was beginning to suspect his quick thinking was better suited for defending others wellbeing opposed to his own.

“…Beka?” The name broke through the morning quiet. “What’er you doin’?” Yuri asked again, his slightly gravely tone doing incredibly unpleasant things the already tight feeling in Otabek’s chest.

“Cat wanted out,” he managed to cough up.

Yuri nodded, face still on the pillow as his eyes tried to take in the other. “Do you need something?” He yawned.

Otabek shook his head, praying Yuri was aware enough to accept the gesture but still tired enough to not care about the strange man standing hopelessly in his doorway.

“M’kay,” he replied stretching out enough for Otabek to notice he’d discarded his shirt in favor of a tunic far to large to stay stay on his shoulders. “Can you open the window then? It’s stuffy.”

On the list of things he needed to do, going further into the room was not one of them.

But he was an obedient solider, he told himself, and a request from Yuri wasn’t something he had the authority to turn down. He ignored the fact the sleepy blonde didn’t seem to even be aware of the fact he was more than a teenager who wanted a morning to sleep in.

He allowed himself the walk to the window, cracking it open just enough to let in some morning air. Behind him Yuri hummed pleased.

He had to glance back in order to walk to the door. He absolutely had no desire to see what the boy looked like with a smile on his face in the middle of disheveled seats. He just happened to see it by mistake.

“Thank you,” Yuri purred with closed eyes. “Is Dedushka up yet?”

Otabek shook his head before realizing Yuri couldn’t see the gesture. “No, just me. And the cat.”

“Potya always wakes up early. He needs to check the beds to make sure no one died.” This is stated as fact. “But if it’s just you come sit. ’s too early to be up.”

Otabek began to protest but the Yuri’s eyes were already open again, a hand reaching out to pull the other closer. He was sitting beside the prince before he realized his legs had moved.

“Sun’s up,” he managed to get out. Whatever point that was supposed to prove lost the moment Yuri stretched his arm out across his lap.

“The sun wont make me breakfast.” A sigh came from below him. “And if Gramps isn’t awake by now he wont either. It’ll be coffee and ‘Yuratchka I did not let you run off with Yakov to embarrass us on camera again.’ So, it’s too early to be awake.”

By the end of his sentence Yuri began to wake up fully, slowly pulling his arm away to push himself up. For some reason his didn’t seem the least bit bothered by having the other man in his room, or by the fact his shirt seemed determined to hang off as much of his shoulder as possible. Instead he focused on calming his usually smooth locks down enough to be manageable. 

Otabek was about to offer that he make breakfast instead to ease the boy’s suffering, but something about the resigned tone in his voice made his stomach sink too far to ignore completely.

“You didn’t embarrass yourself. You were very respectable.” Yuri huffed as he twisted his hair into a bun. “All the news outlets agreed.”

“Me finally reading a teleprompter is not what’s embarrassing…” his voice trailed off, his eyes darting for a moment to the studier man beside him. “You aren’t taught to like, surrender or something are you? When you train?”

He shook his head, stopping the second he noticed Yuri’s open posture stiffen. “No. But this isn’t that. It’s a strategy. Those are good.”

Yuri’s hands lowered from his bun, his eyes scanning across the serious face before him. Otabek didn’t know what he was looking for. Just that there seemed to be an excessive amount of time spent focusing on his eyes even after he himself had looked away.

“You think this is a good idea?” the question came far quieter than the last.

He didn’t dare look back into those emerald eyes for fear of giving something away he didn’t mean to.

“For the country yes. Anything that can stop a war is good.” The boy beside him had not moved at all. “But if you want to try other methods I’ll stand by that decision too.”

“I’m not asking you to stand by any decision I’m asking if you think it’s a good idea!” Yuri’s voice raised, forcing Otabek to look over on impulse.

Automatically the emerald eyes locked on his own, pinning him in place. And for whatever information the other was gathering Otabek managed to catch onto the faintest glimmer staring back at him. Yuri was scared.

Yuri Plisetsky sitting before him on a small bed, was scared of whatever situation Prince Yuri had gotten himself into.

“Yes—” Somehow Yuri Plisetsky and Yuri the Prince both seemed dissatisfied with the answer so he added—“I don’t have to like it to agree it’s a good idea.”

This got the boy to nod, emerald eyes flitting down for a moment before returning to Otabek’s. The fear replaced with something softer. Something that reminded him a bit too much about how close they were sitting.

“Because anything involving the Leroy’s is disgusting, right?” he offered before allowing the faintest smile. “or because you think someone would pull an ‘I object’ at the wedding?”

The commen t was obviously meant as a joke, something Yuri was trying desperately to pull off to lighten the mood. Otabek, however, was too distracted by the look of uncertainty wavering behind gemstone green eyes to catch on.

“Someone would,” he said, all too serious. 

_I would._ Echoed so loud in his head he wasn’t sure if he had actually said that instead.

Before either of them had a chance to acknowledge the pink flaring up in Yuri’s cheeks or Otabek’s sudden fascination with a strand of blonde hair escaping its bun the sound of a coffee grinder tore through the house.

By the time the machine stopped Yuri was halfway dressed, leaving Otabek sitting on the side of the bed to try his hardest to remember exactly which phrase came out his mouth and which stayed buried where it belonged.

* * *

“ _It could be a trap. They’re running out of ideas.”_

_“Or he could’ve meant it. It’s not like the boy is known for lying.”_

_“We’ve brought you all the recordings we could find, if anything we just continue to stall until they take it back.”_

_JJ had shaken his head, replaying the video of Yuri again. The sound had been muted after the first handful of plays._

_Isabella was the first person to notice how little the King was looking away from his screen. Without a word she ushered the other advisors out. Her hand squeezing the King’s shoulder lightly quiet french was whispered._

_“We’d be winning. And you’d have a way out. Let me know what I should tell them.”_

 

He had never met the Prince personally. There were only vague memories of meeting Viktor before he’d taken on the crown. His parents had felt more with official business than him for some time.

By the time Yuri’s name was even muttered around the ice fortress JJ had his own responsibilities at home, his grooming left little room to try and make political friends.

Regardless he never missed an opportunity to see how the other family worked. Or how easily they could summon magic.

His family had lost the ability somewhere down the line, some great uncle marrying some common woman or something else effectively removing the skill from their lives. It didn’t affect much. Science had long since made up for what people used to rely on the spells for.

But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t look flat out impressive.

He’d watched most all of the televised dances, spells, demonstrations, whatever they wanted to call them, by the time Bella walked back into the office.

“JJ.” The King looked up quickly, smile plastered to his face on instinct. “Jean, you missed dinner.”

_Oh._ “I didn’t ask to have it brought up here?”

Isabella shook her head, a sad smile playing across her lips as she moved to place a small plate of food beside the screen. How he was lucky enough to have someone like her around JJ doubted he’d ever understand.

“I think you meant to before we sent up that video from his coronation tour.” Quietly she sat across from the King, her small frame so certain in every word. JJ had always envied that. “You should be more careful. People might start to think you want to go through with this.”

JJ forced a laugh, running a hand through his hair nervously. He could feel his stomach doing strange things at the mere mention of the offer. He knew Isabella knew him too well to buy into any of his facades but he had to try anyway.

“I don’t need to want to marry the little fairy to think the spells look cool. We should find someone like that for here,” he said with a smile.

“We’ve tried. No one on this side of the mountain is half decent,” Isabella said gently. “All that snow had to be good for something.”

The young King chuckled. The uneasy feeling in his stomach calming down the second he started to eat. He enjoyed winter as much as the next person but it came as no surprise to him everyone from the Nikiforov family wound up so grumpy. A foul mood in exchange for magic, however, might almost be a fair trade.

“When we get control of it I’ll let them keep bits. As long as people have a heater or two in their house. I could’ve sworn I saw their army guards just sleeping in tents in the snow. They still use fur Bella! Fur!” His arms flailed to emphasize his point, accidentally bumping his hand the screen in front of him.

Automatically the joy in the room was lost. Instead Prince Yuri spun on a sheet of ice, the wind obeying his movements as he ordered it to sturdy the surface below him. He’d seen the video enough to know it was just for show. By the time he’d step off to rest children would already be playing where the Prince stood, singing their praises for safe space to skate.

Isabella didn’t need to point out the small smile on the Prince’s face as the camera panned away. JJ knew the moment it appeared and just how long it stayed in focus. He was nothing if not thorough in his research.

Both knew he had made up his mind three replays ago.

* * *

“No, to the left!”

“It is left.”

“More left! Not my fault your arms are short.”

Otabek groaned loudly, moving the final bushel of firewood up against the side of the cottage. He had offered to help around the house to avoid any sort of conversation about why he and Yuri had arrived so suddenly. He did not think that would mean listening to Yuri bark orders because ‘If Dedushka likes having a fire place he doesn’t need a heater’ and ‘Magic doesn't work like that, Beka’.

If he had he might’ve bothered hanging around the kitchen long enough to answer questions about whether or not he had a girlfriend back in the city. That at least seemed well intentioned.

“They are not short,” he grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow; “You are just too gangly all over.”

The blonde chuckled from his perch on the stone fence. His legs close enough to touch the snow pile below if he simply pointed a foot. The golden braids he usually wore were loose, brushing against the side of his face with the breeze.

Though he was still in all respects Yuri the Prince, seeing the boy perched in a sweater far to large with a scarf forced upon him by his grandfather only worked to remind Otabek of how he’d looked that morning. Granted the expression on his face was far less inviting at the moment but people that observe yard work just for the fun deserve a jab or two.

“I am not gangly. I’m perfectly proportioned,” he pouted. “You’re just built like a wall.”

Otabek allowed himself a smile, brushing his hands clean as he turned to face the other fully.

He was right though, about both things. Yuri was perfect. All high cheekbones, straight shoulders, lean muscle, and surprisingly smooth hips. He already knew he could wax poetic on the color green of his eyes, and he still felt the itch to run his fingers through his hair to test if it was as soft as it looked.

Why he felt the need to sit up somewhere that made it impossible for him to be looked at without those things being noticed Otabek wasn’t sure. Most likely the boy enjoyed the tortured look on his face as he tried his hardest to not look down when he worried on his bottom lip. He certainly seemed like the type to enjoy making other people’s lives hard.

Now was not the time to think about Yuri enjoying making people hard.

_Oh god damn me._ “Can’t beat a tank with stick arms,” was all he managed.

He tried his hardest to not notice Yuri’s gaze move down to investigate said arms before languidly moving back to his face. The smallest smirk tugged the corner of his lip.

“Stick arms? That’s the best you got?” Yuri teased. “You probably just walked right up the thing and it just crashed.”

Otabek took a step forward, eyes narrowing up to the perched man. Uncertainty flashed across Yuri’s face quickly as he did so. His confidence wavering the longer he went without a reply and the chances of him overstepping grew.

“And if I did?” Otabek said, close enough for Yuri’s knee to brush against his jacket. “Would have given me a real medal then?”

The proximity between the two seemed to slow Yuri’s response, even when he realized Otabek was playing back. His body seemed to react on its own accord as his legs moved to the side to let the other closer. A hand moved to the collar of the black jacket, flipping the lapels as if to check for a medal.

Or as an excuse to pull the sturdy body closer to the wall.

“I’m pretty sure I offered one,” Yuri said quietly. His grip on the jacket tightening when Otabek rested his hands on either side of his legs for balance. “But that’s something for you to complain about to Viktor. I had nothing to do with you getting your hopes up.”

Before he could stop himself he felt the words pouring out of his throat, low and gravely as he turned his head up to face the other. “I don’t think that’s really true.”

Yuri’s breath caught audibly, the pink tint of his cheeks getting too prominent to blame entirely on the cold. Otabek could feel his hand tremble as he moved it away from the jacket. His gaze heavy as he studied the space left between them.

“Beka,” he warned, sending a shiver down his spine. “You said we would forget that.”

“I said we could, if you wanted.” He didn’t dare move his hands at the risk of holding onto the hips just a hair’s breath away. “…do you?”

Green eyes found there way to his own. Oceans of unspoken worries fighting against the same gnawing feeling Otabek felt at the base of his stomach. Neither of them said a word was Yuri lowered his hands down above the ones already at his side. No one mentioned the sparks searing against his palm.

The only thing that matter was the small tilt of Yuri’s head as he leaned forward ever so slightly.

“It’d be a good idea,” he said, as if to convince the other to pull away. It fell flat.

“Then should I go back to working?”

Yuri’s head shook, brushing strands of blonde between them. Otabek had reached up to move them aside strictly to keep them from hitting his face but found himself too intrigued by the silky strand to remember to let it go.

He instead stayed, twirling the hair around his finger gently. He thought about it across the pillow that morning, and it wild around his face in the middle of a spell. He thought about how tight it had been pulled back in braids, and how it had the pleasure of draping against his neck at dinner.

Tucking the strand back behind his ear had been a courtesy. Lacing his hand through to hold the back of his head, however, was entirely selfish.

The first time they kissed neither was sure who moved first. There had just been the unspoken agreement the moment they locked eyes in the dim restaurant. But here in the light of day it was far easier to enjoy half closed eyes and flushed cheeks of the Prince. He wasn’t about to cut that image short if he could avoid it.

“Well, should I?” He repeated, voice reverberating in his chest.

Yuri’s eyes flicked open, the storm of uncertainty replaced with sheer annoyance as he reached out to cup the back of Otabek’s neck, pulling him up high enough to press their lips together roughly.

A small grunt of surprise came from the standing man. The sound only working to spur the other on. A gentle press soon became heavier, locking the two together until Otabek could feel the cold press of Yuri’s nose against his cheek.

His grip on Yuri’s hair tightened as he was pulled forward until they were chest to chest. Yuri’s ankles wrapped around his waist tentatively, steadying him as best as possible. Encouraged by the closeness Otabek allowed himself a small tug at the other’s bottom lip before losing sense of anything but the feeling of the tongue against this own.

They stayed like this, pressed against one another, hands gripping at any available surface for what seemed like ages. Neither having any desire to part until lips were swollen and bruised.

They were too enveloped in each other to even notice the cold. So quite obviously, neither heard the gentle ping of an incoming call coming from Yuri’s pocket. There were far more pressing matters than people who weren’t around to become tangled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I may have enjoyed writing JJ more than I expected. As always let me know what you think! Until next time.
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://annacaterninina.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

Yuri had lovers before. It was never hard for the wealthy to find them, being young, rebellious, and beautiful only made it simpler. Throughout those encounters however, he never found it difficult to pull away. He almost enjoyed the feeling of them watching him leave as much as anything he would’ve done.

He relished in the fact he was something no one could actually have. Not for long anyway.

And yet it seemed as though there was nothing he could do to keep Otabek as close as he wanted.

Rough hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him down with a satisfying sting. His own gripped anything with give, black hair, black jacket, the warm sweater underneath, anything that so much as brushed his fingers.

His legs had locked the other in place against him. The radiating heat of the stockier man’s body between his legs not at all forgotten. Had his lips not tasted so sweet he might’ve pulled away long enough to mention the growing risk of someone pressing against something they shouldn’t.

Or should. Yuri wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of Otabek’s mouth sucking places other than his lips. The fact he was already in such an convenient position was all the more reason.

He smiled into the kiss, feeling the rough graze of teeth against his bottom lip as he did so. One hand had moved from his hair back to his hip in order to pull him closer against the other man. A small breath of air escaping as Otabek’s chest pressed firmly against his thigh.

There was no doubt in his mind the man had to be solid muscle. If the position on the fence didn’t suit him it would be all too easy for him to carry Yuri to somewhere more his taste.

Just the idea of letting himself be manhandled caused Yuri to pull him closer, his fingers digging into his sides underneath the jacket.

Otabek’s attention moved to down to his jaw, his kisses far gentler there than they had been on his lips. Yuri tilted his head back, displaying more skin, encouraging the other with an amused hum.

The kisses seemed to slow. He must not’ve heard.

“Beka,” Yuri purred, moving a hand up to play with the short hair on the back of his head. “Stare later.”

Still his neck went unattended.

“Beka—“

“‘M not staring.” The deep voice reverberated in his chest, and in turn against Yuri’s thighs.

“Then what is the prob—“

“Your phone is vibrating.”

Yuri’s eyes snapped open, looking down at the other more than a little confused. Otabek’s face was flushed but his lips were curved in a devilish smirk. His deep brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he tapped his hand against his hip, the sound of the plastic breaking the silence before Yuri could realize what he was talking about.

The thin phone buzzed once more, startling Yuri upright. He was not about to admit to the fact he was too distracted to feel it. He was just choosing to ignore whatever asshole felt the need to interrupt them.

Of course Viktor’s name was the first to pop up on the screen. Even hours away he managed to spoil anything fun.

“Oh fuck me,” Yuri groaned, scooting back enough to go through the ignored messaged. “That god damn piece of shit, of course he wants to talk now.”

Yuri’s annoyance, however, was not a shared feeling. Instead Otabek laughed. Actually laughed. Granted it was short and at Yuri’s expense but the low rumbling sound nearly knocked the phone right out of his hands.

If his face was not already flushed from kissing it would’ve deepened at least six shades he was sure.

“Go call him. It had to go off twice.” Otabek’s smirk showed no sign of fading. Yuri was almost certain this would be his cause of death.

“How would you know, huh? You focusing on my phone that whole time?” Yuri snapped, trying to save any bit of self respect he had.

“No,” he paused, eyes darting down for a moment. “More where your phone was. Tight pants like that don’t hide much.”

For a moment Yuri felt his soul leave his body. This would absolutely be how he died. Death by a perfect adonis of a man checking out his ass only to have Viktor ruin everything. He should’ve been more surprised.

Without a word he jumped off the fence, pushing Otabek out of the way with an embarrassed grunt. If he managed to return his soul to his body he’d get him back for chuckling at his pain.

“Whatever. Keep your hands out of my pockets next time and you can ignore it like you should’ve,” he said as mater-of-factly as he could. “I’m going to call the old bastard to make sure Yuuri didn’t finally leave his ass or something.”

Otabek nodded, his smile tugging at Yuri’s chest as he made his way back to the house.  
“Just I don’t know, entertain yourself. Cut more wood or something I don’t care. Just wipe that dumb look off your face!” Yuri did not need to mention his face looked equally ridiculous.

“I’ll can find something to do. Can’t do anything about my face though,” he smirked before adding, “and I make no promises about my hands either.”

Yuri had never had so much trouble remembering how walk away from someone before. Or forgotten how to properly slam a door after doing so. The sound of Otabek’s laugh still ringing in his ears long after he returned to the house.

It took a moment for the the ringing the stop. The fact his heart seemed to be racing out of his chest wasn’t helping matters either. He blamed having to stop for Viktor of all people.

It wasn’t as though kissing people with such—for lack of abetter word— enthusiasm was new to him. The tight feeling in his chest must’ve simply been because things were cut short.

Regardless he had little time to dwell on the turmoil bubbling in his chest. His phone pinged to remind him of the now dozen messages left unanswered.

No matter how he felt personally Viktor’s ability to be irritating was always more powerful. Even Potya seemed annoyed as they were forced to share the small couch in order for Yuri to go through the combination of texts and old calls.

Three were from the royal pain in the ass himself. Two calls from Yakov along with a half completed text—most likely made on accident. One message from Lilia telling him to answer Yakov. A second handful of texts from Viktor followed Yakovs.

Yuuri’s was the only person who seemed kind enough to not try getting through at the same time. His time stamp came in last. One small message pinned to the top of his screen.

‘ _I’m so sorry.’_

* * *

How his life ever went from watching blurry recordings of royal events in crowded mess halls with dirt stained soldiers to pulling Yuri painfully close to kiss his lips crimson Otabek would never understand. Saying life was paying him back for good deeds felt too self important, and he couldn’t recall ever sacrificing anything to the old gods.

Maybe he’d died back on the field and this was all just an elaborate hallucination. If Yuri’s grip on his chest hadn’t left small red marks he would’ve believed that explanation before anything else.

He’d watched the blonde boy stumble his way inside, far too focused on the way his hips moved to bother commenting on how much difficultly he was having opening the simple door. In the back of his mind he wanted to think he was just as dazed from the kiss as he was. It felt foolish to think he could mean more to the boy than a distraction, but he’d be more than willing to take whatever Yuri was willing to give.

If all he needed to do in return was cut more firewood for his grandfather he would’ve fell a whole tree before thinking twice.

The weather calmed enough for him to discard his leather jacket to the side as he worked. The repetitive motion of bringing down the ax soothed his busy mind. The familiar ache of exertion in his arms brought back memories of training before deployment.

One day he’d go back south, visit his family, train in the yard and cool off in the river. Yuri would like the summer there. He’d need something to protect that porcelain skin of course. There was no chance he’d last long bare chested in the heat.

Otabek’s swing came down unevenly as the image of Yuri shirtless and glistening suddenly came to mind. He felt the strength of his legs just from their encounter on the fence. The last thing he needed to calm himself was imagine the rest of his body wrapped around him.

Lean muscle and long limbs, like some other worldly being fallen right out of a painting.

Otabek had to put the ax down when mind felt the need to remind him of the neediness of his voice and his vice like grip.

Fantasizing about an evil nymph of a boy in their grandfathers backyard was far too dirty a deed for him to do with any self respect.

He was a good man. Strong willed and determined. Vindictive occasionally, but he had always prided himself on being a decent person. Or at least a decent enough person to not be reduced to picturing someone half naked after kissing twice.

Yet Yuri had always been someone so untouchable. All royals were supposed to be. Having him so tangible and—responsive— frankly Otabek was starting to believe the theory that he was hallucinating the entire experience.

His job, if he could call it that. Where he was. Who he was with. None of it could possibly be real.

The sound of glass shattering was real.

Sharp and undeniable. Followed by a screech so loud there was no question the cat must’ve died.

Ax thrown aside, work discarded, Otabek ran towards the fray without a moment’s hesitation.

The back door flew open. Flurries of snow displaced in its wake.

Nikolai stood in the middle of the room, arms reaching out for a storm of blonde hair cutting through the space.

Otabek was about to reach out to catch the boy, slow him down, or at least keep him from running into the older man. His hand had barely managed to reach out before Yuri spun, coat snapping behind him, hitting the hand away.

He seemed oblivious to anyone else in the room, or even of the things around him.

The only thing worthy of his focus was the slightly out of focus image of the royal advisor on a screen. His face grim even through the shaky connection. The phone producing the image had been thrown to the floor, discarded some time before a vase shattered. Glass covered the device, distorting the image further.

“You said he’d say no! You swore!”

The wind left Otabek’s body automatically. Yuri’s rapid movement’s suddenly slowed to painstaking clarity.

“You swore Yakov! You promised!” Yuri’s voice came out ragged, tears streaking down his face. Red lines carved into his palms from some combination of the glass and his own tight fist.

A caged tiger was lethal, and Yuri was without a doubt. In the moment, however, with the source of his betrayal so out of reach he seemed frail. Smaller than usual. And completely broken.

“Yakov,” he choked out, “You promised.”

The line was quiet for what felt like ages. Yuri’s lashes stilled, his body trying its hardest to recover before an encore came. Nikolai moved forward, a hand resting tentatively on his grandson’s arm, pulling him away from the screen ever so slightly.

“I know.” The advisor’s face flickered wth something akin to guilt. “I’m sorry. We really thought… I’m sorry.”

The line cut before Yuri could respond, his entire body going limp against the older man. His eyes stayed glued to the space where the screen had been. Emerald green glistening with tears he seemed completely unaware of.

With no prompting, without so much as even a glance to Otabek, Yuri spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, the strain on his vocal chords finally taking affect.

“He said yes… I have to… we meet at the rehearsal dinner. After that… I have to go through with this,” he said, his voice threatening to break at any second. “He wants to marry me.”

* * *

_Do I call him a Fairy Prince or Ice Tiger? If he wears that fur thing Ice Tiger is like, what he’s going for, right? Oh man this shouldn’t be so hard._

“If you’re worried about what to call him start with his name. He wont appreciate acting like you’re friends all of a sudden.” Isabella was constantly the voice of reason. Granted he hadn’t asked for it this time, she did have a point.

“I can’t say it properly. You-ree, Yu-rrr-y, it’s strange. Viktor at least has a normal name.”

“It’s only strange over here. I’m pretty sure he wont call you Jean until after the wedding.”

The wedding.

His wedding.

To Yuri Plisetsky.

Suddenly the King’s stomach jolted. When he had spoken to the old advisor about his answer he tried to ignore the feeling of giddiness. The shock in the old man’s face was far more entertaining.

But now the shock had settled. His parents called in their congratulations for his “good business decision” and Isabella brought in the finest liquor she could find. All that was left was a looping video of Yuri at some dinner party dancing on a table and the look in his eyes when he glanced towards the person shooting the video.

Somehow that burst of fire trapped in a human form sought him out. Offered him the opportunity to have him.

The longer that video played the more reasonable it seemed to leave all the villages in the mountain for a chance to have those eyes focused on him in the same way.

* * *

Yuri hadn’t touched his dinner that night. He didn’t even open the bedroom door for Potya.

The old cat by Otabek’s side, his large grey tail twitching back and forth as he watched Nikolai adjust pictures moved by the broken vase to his liking.

Neither man left in the room seemed fond of talking. Both too unfamiliar with one another to risk commenting on the situation.

Nikolai looked so much like Yuri. Or Yuri looked like him. In his youth he must’ve been striking but time was not kind to people who lived on the mountain side. The winters were harsher than near the cities, good food was more difficult to come by, company seemed nonexistent.

“I want what’s best for him,” the old man said carefully, his eyes focused on the picture in his hands. “I always have.”

Otabek nodded in response, assuming he wasn’t actually being asked to comment.

“Yakov… When we knew his mother had that talent, we talked about Yuri moving to the capitol. He deserved more than staying here to entertain children. No one would pass up becoming an heir.”

Otabek shook his head. The old man sighed, turning to look at him with weary eyes.

“You’re a solider right? That’s why they trusted you to be here.”

Again he nodded.

“If you think this is a trap, even a little bit, you need to say so now.”

Nikolai stood straighter, his body sturdy and immovable like the mountains outside his door. He wasn’t threatening. He didn’t even need to lift a finger to be absolutely terrifying. The Tiger gene obviously a gift from his veins.

Lying would almost guarantee Otabek’s body would never be found.

“I don’t know,” he spoke honestly, “I don’t think it is but it doesn’t need to be a trap to go wrong.”

“You think it will go wrong?”

Otabek had to think, the slate grey eyes piercing his own. One wrong word and the entire operation could have been in jeopardy. He doubted this man bothered with any authority past his own.

“No. Not while I’m around. I wont let anything happen.”

The finality in his voice quieted the room. It should have shocked him to hear and yet it didn’t. It felt natural. As though no other response would have been anything close to the truth.

Nikolai didn’t seem to agree, but he did seem relatively satisfied.

“Good. Make sure he eats. Him can’t be in a foul mood and be hungry. Just put it by his bed. And let the cat stay with him. He’ll be glad about it tomorrow.”

Once again the old man wasn’t really looking for a reply. He’d said what he needed to do, and Otabek must’ve seemed throughly convinced of his own mortality enough to listen. He left for his room without a glance over his shoulder. The softness in his form refusing to return until he was safely away from prying eyes.

That left him with the challenge of entering the room and leaving unscathed.

With a deep breath he let himself into the room, giving Yuri plenty time to shoo him away if need be.

No response came.

Yuri stood by the window, back to the door, completely rigid.

Otabek knew better than to say anything. The only thing he could do to help was supply the food. If he didn’t feel like eating he couldn’t force him.

Even Potya seemed to sense the hopelessness of the situation, resigning himself to his familiar position on the side of the bed.

Yuri didn’t make any movements to acknowledge the plate when it was set down, his arms firmly crossed as he focused on the snow falling.

Had he been a different man, he might have known what to say. His mother would have. Yusef would have at least tried. But he couldn’t find himself capable of anything but watching the other man. The softness that had seeped into his features in the past few days long gone.

“Did you have something to say?” a quiet voice asked.

It took a moment before he even realized it came from the sullen prince.

“No. Just dropping off dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Yuri made no attempt to turn around. “Take it yourself. Feed Potya with it. I don’t want it.”

“You should eat, your grandfather—“

“Don’t speak for Dedushka!” Yuri’s anger cut through the air like a whip. “I don’t want his pity meal so take it back!”

The anger wasn’t directed at him personally, but it was still difficult to swallow. Yuri hadn’t bothered even turning around to see what affect his words had. He was lashing out and Otabek knew that much. Even so, the words did their job, startling him back a few steps.

“It’s not… he’s taking care of you. You need to eat. It’ll be there when you’re ready,” he replied, thankful his voice was coming out steadier than he expected.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me Otabek. Especially not him. He’s done too much already so you don’t need to baby me for him just because I’m managing to do one thing to keep him safe!” Yuri spun, eyes red with tears, to glare at the shorter man. “I’m not hungry, I don’t want food and I don’t want either of your pity!”

He opened his mouth, hoping a response would find it’s way out for him. Nothing came. The only thing he could think long enough to acknowledge was the tremor on Yuri’s lip. The hard fire of his eyes threatening to tear up one final time.

He couldn’t live with seeing that without trying to do something.

Without a word he stepped forward, doing his best not to focus on Yuri pulling away. Carefully he reached out to the other, pulling him against his chest as gingerly as he could. His grip was lose, giving the other plenty room to push him off if he wanted.

If he didn’t want the embrace all he had to do was step back. Instead he stood, rod still, in the other’s arms. The difference in their height buried Otabek’s cheek against his hair, his neck inches away from the tan skin hugging him close.

It took one breath before the taller man sunk down, gripping Otabek’s stronger shoulder’s as tightly as he could manage, as if they were the only things keeping him upright. He didn’t cry, he didn’t wail, he just sunk down, burying his face against the black jacket.

How Otabek’s hand found it’s way to cradle the back of his blonde hair he wasn’t sure. Regardless Yuri didn’t seem to mind. If anything having more of the other man to anchor him in place seemed welcomed.

They stood entangled in one another for what felt like ages. Neither saying a word, both allowing Otabek’s steady breath to calm the frantic man down. Otabek could feel how fast his heart was racing through his shirt. The ragged pace of his breath tickling his neck accidentally until it slowed enough to stay a safe distance away.

The absentminded caressing of Yuri’s back seemed to set the new pace for him. Otabek couldn’t allow himself to think he had that much influence over the other. He had no time to acknowledge his own aching heart, much less encourage it.

“It’s not pity. Never pity,” he said, holding the other firm.

A humorless laugh was his only response.

“I mean it Yuri. I just think you should eat if you want to run away. Not a good idea on an empty stomach.”

He could feel his body tense in his arms. The head on his shoulder shifting ever so slightly to eye up to him. The arms around his back lowering down to his chest cautiously.

“I never… I’m not going to… No, Otabek.” Yuri sounded unsure for a moment, but the resolve in his eyes grew as he found his voice. “I can’t. I have to do this.”

“For your grandfather?” Yuri nodded, gaze unwavering.

“And everyone else. I-I have to. If it’ll stop him I have to.”

It wasn’t worth mentioning that Otabek had his doubts. That a thousand things could break a peace deal or be done under the table. War was too different to explain to someone who hadn’t seen it first hand.

That made his response almost too clear.

“Then I’ll be with you. Whatever you need. As long as you need.” _I wont let anything happen to you._

Yuri stared for a moment. His emerald eyes still glistening now in complete awe. His hands dropped lower to his waist. His glance lowering for a moment to hide whatever was coming to his mind.

“As a guard or as this?” He didn’t bother explaining what ‘this’ meant. The warm breath close to Otabek’s neck gave a clear enough idea.

“He can’t deny you a King’s Guard.” Yuri’s grip on his waist tightened noticeably.

“Right, King’s Guard… and that’s all you want?”

_No._

“I want you safe. You need a knight there.”

Yuri’s grip tightened again, the burn of his fists bound to leave marks. “Answer the question Otabek. Is that all you want? To be my King’s Guard if I marry that god damn Leroy?”

_Lie. Say yes. This is dangerous say yes._

“No.” The word sounded so foreign he wasn’t even sure if he had been the one to say it.

“Then what do you want?” Yuri demanded, his face turned to watch the other with harsh eyes.

“Yuri it doesn’t—“

“Otabek Altin. Tell me. Now.”

“Yura—“

“Now.”

The hands on his waist burned. The emerald eyes bore him down. Every lie he ever told in preparation of this moment disappeared on the spot.

“You…” His hand had stilled on the other’s back, the hand tangled in blonde hair sacrificed long ago. He’d sealed his own fate the moment he pulled the boy close. “I want you.”

He expected shock. More anger. Violent threats about the safety of his position. Some acknowledgment of just how selfish a thought that was.

What he got instead was a small hum, and the softest of kisses to his neck.

Yuri’s face was completely hidden from view. The grip on his waist wavering for a moment before pulling him closer. If this was how he was destined to die it might be worth it to feel Yuri’s chest flush against his own.

“But you’re going to help me marry another man? If I don’t kill him I’ll have to sleep with him, or at least pretend to not hate him.” Yuri’s voice came low against his collar bone before another kiss took it’s place. “You couldn’t have me.”

Otabek’s caught as a harder kiss was placed against sensitive tissue, his grip on Yuri’s hair keeping him too close to give himself any reprieve.

“I don’t think anyone really can,” he muttered. “I want whatever you’re willing to give.”

He couldn’t see the look on Yuri’s face when he stopped with his kisses. He had no idea what those hard emerald eyes looked like when he moved away from the tan skin at his collar. All he knew was the weight of Yuri’s lips on his own and the feeling of his hands against his face.

He welcomed the kiss greedily, pulling the other as tight as he dared to risk. It wasn’t a wild kiss by any means. Their kiss that morning had more fire to it. This kiss was one of need. As if the simple idea of parting to render all of Otabek’s words meaningless.

If they hadn’t needed to breath he wasn’t sure they would have ever moved from that place.

Wordlessly their foreheads came together, allowing them both some form of contact while they—namely Yuri— caught their breath. He was in no state to go any further, and seemed too dazed to know when to stop himself.

It took every ounce of self control to place a chaste kiss against his lips before releasing him from his grasp. It wasn’t sudden, every inch of separation took years to accomplish. Yuri didn’t fight him. He didn’t seem pleased, but he at least allowed the other to step back.

“Beka.”

Yuri’s voice run out soft but clear the moment Otabek’s hand came in contact with the door, stilling him for just a moment. 

“Stay…”

“I want to.” Wanting things was beginning to sound more natural. “But I want you to rest more. Eat. I’ll be right outside in the morning.”

Yuri made no effort to argue this time.

“Sleep well, my Prince.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Moving has got be a bit behind schedule. As always let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating's going up oooooh

Waking up alone had always been a fact of life. Potya and eventually Sasha kept it from being a hundred percent solitary but a cat couldn’t warm an entire bed.

For some reason though waking up to the cold linen today gave Yuri a far more empty feeling than he was used to.

Potya had taken it upon himself to reclaim a majority of Yuri’s pillow during the night. While normally this would’ve started a game of “try to kiss the nose” all it did was make it necessary to sit up.

The throbbing at the back of his head was a gentle reminder to not look in a mirror expecting clear eyes. It was probably for the best he was waking up alone. No amount of charming bedhead could salvage a look that screamed ‘I have no control of my life’. Granted this was his usual morning look it was rarely pared with red puffy eyes.

Getting out of bed was more of a process than it should’ve been. His legs seemed to have lost all motivation, his knees ached worse than a day after rehearsing, his neck was far too stiff, everything seemed to be giving up at once. Forgoing getting dressed properly just seemed like the simplest solution.

The hard wood floor underneath him did little to sooth the feeling in his stomach. The pink silk of his robe pooling around his feet as he moved. 

If he’d known how the night was going to turn out he would’ve bothered packing something thicker. Despite how much he enjoyed prancing around the palace in expensive silks they didn’t have the same cocooning ability as his furs.

At least someone had the decency to keep the fire on throughout the night or he would’ve doubted the robe would’ve done much to keep him warm at all.

It didn’t cross his mind that Otabek had been sleeping outside until he spotted the slicked back hair on the other side of the room.

Suddenly the fact his robe was unable to close all the way became incredibly noticeable.

The other man looked up from the couch he was busy tiding as soon as he heard footsteps. His face gave nothing away, but even in his current state Yuri noticed how his eyes moved from the disheveled hair to his bare chest. He only lingered for a moment before going back to fluffing pillows. The light shade of pink in his cheeks matching Yuri’s too closely to bother commenting on.

Shyness wasn’t in the Prince’s vocabulary. He simply adjusted his robe because of the window cracked open. It had nothing to do with the warm feeling spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. Besides his Dedushka wouldn’t appreciate him walking around the house undressed anyway.

He could save seeing if Otabek would try for a second look back at the palace.

“Sleep well?” the man in question asked, gaze still glued to the couch.

Yuri could only shrug, doing his best to muster some courage before walking over to the other. His years of practiced grace made slipping down next to a recently adjusted pillow look almost casual. The last thing he was about to do was draw attention to his still swollen face.

“Potya did at least. He’s getting to be an old man, sleeps through anything.” Yuri forced a small smile, running his hand through his hair to try and smooth it out.

Beside him the older man said nothing. The rest of the couch restored without a word. Yuri could feel his gaze the bit of leg exposed, then on his chest, it wasn’t until he could feel the deep brown eyes on his cheek that he turned. A sudden tangle needed dealing with.

The unruly hair did mange to work as a cover, but still the gaze stayed. If it had come from anyone else Yuri would’ve assumed some sort of smart comment would follow, or at least a remark dismissing him. From what he’d figured out about the other man, however, he was far too comfortable in silence to just wait out.

“Did you? Do you even fit on this thing as a bed?” A quick attempt to change the focus of the conversation.

He could feel Otabek’s weight shifting beside him as he joined him on the couch, his gaze soften for a moment of relief. Probably accompanied by some small shrug but Yuri wasn’t about to risk checking.

“Well enough. It’s bigger than the field beds.” Otabek’s already deep voice seemed a touch huskier in the morning. God if there was some spell to clean up his face he’d sit through a whole lesson with Lilia just to enjoy that sound properly.

“Lucky I guess. My legs dangle off the sides when I sleep here,” Yuri said with another yank to his hair. “I’ve offered to send a new one but Dedushka is almost as stubborn as I am. Yakov says it’s a family trait or something.”

Otabek hummed a quiet agreement. Yuri wanted him to tease back, make some comment about his legs or even his stubbornness, something to prove he was moderately succeeding at looking normal.

Instead he reached over, his strong hand stilling Yuri’s cautiously before brushing his hair back off his face.

The blonde froze in place, needing a moment to register the fact the attention wasn’t on his face at all. Instead Otabek moved enough to being working the knots out himself, far gentler than Yuri had been.

He was barely aware of turning to make it easier for him before the tension against his scalp began to wash away.

“…what are you doing?” he asked, careful not to sound confused enough to make the other stop.

“You were pulling your hair out. I have sisters, they say that’s bad for you,” he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You forget to tie it back?”

His voice felt so calm. Like warm feeling that came from holding a cup of coffee. Everything about his presence was reassuring. While the night before he had tried everything possible to use that to anchor himself back down, just the feeling of Otabek’s hand running through his hair was enough to still his mind.

A small sigh left his lips before he had a chance to stop it. The little nod he gave in response was too late to forgive the sound entirely but the sensation was too nice to care.

“I threw my hair tie somewhere with my phone after Yakov messaged me… I’ll find it later.” Yuri found himself leaning back against the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he spoke. “We’re supposed to come back by tomorrow for the rehearsal. Then I get to deal with King Jackass.”

Otabek’s fingers caught on a knot for a moment before the movement was corrected.

“He’s coming to the palace?” The calm of his voice felt far more deliberate than before.

“No, that’d be stupid even for him. We’ll just have to talk on a call. We wont be able to meet on either of our territories without risking things going wrong, it’ll need to be neutral territory or something.” Yuri thought for a moment before trying to save the mood. “Which might mean we’ll never meet. Huh, that might work out.”

Otabek didn’t chuckle, but he didn’t tense again. Instead they sat with Yuri practically in the other’s lap until his hair fell smooth against his back. He hadn’t mentioned doing anything with it but Otabek continued, his hands combing through the golden locks with a gentle care that made Yuri’s chest delightfully warm.

For a moment it sounded like Nikolai was on his way to the kitchen but the footsteps turned away before they were close enough to worry about. Yuri hadn’t bothered opening his eyes to see the small look shared between the two older men.

“Should we pack Potya?” Otabek offered, a smirk playing out on his face as he spoke.

Yuri could only chuckle, stretching back to purposefully bump Otabek out of place for asking.

“No, he and Sasha don’t get along. Besides, someone has to make sure Dedushka doesn’t get bored here,” Yuri smiled. “Plus he’d hate the train ride. My bed is more comfortable than those seats anyway.”

“Ah so even your cat is spoiled. So sorry you have to suffer through the trip.”

The warm feeling in his chest only grew with Otabek’s teasing. Without having to try Yuri rested his head back against Otabek’s shoulder, strong hands finding their way to his waist to steady him automatically. The grip didn’t seem entirely flustered but the pink tint under tanned skin was just visible from his position near the other’s cheek.

“I guess I can use you as a pillow. Think you’ll mind?”

The blush deepened ever so slightly before Otabek deliberately turned his head.

“Lets just get your things together first okay?”

A smile graced Yuri’s lips once more before he moved from the other’s lap. Despite the evidence proving otherwise Otabek always seemed so committed to acting serious about his job. Even if it was mainly just to keep Yuri company as far as he was concerned.

The though warmed his chest that such a strong stoic man was willing to dedicate so much of his time to him. For what? A few kisses? The crown? He wasn’t quite sure. Regardless he was thankful.

It seemed to be getting increasingly harder to find people dedicated to just him. If letting Otabek pretend to have a serious job made that last longer Yuri would be willing to humor him. At least occasionally.

“I can handle that. Make me food or something while I change. Yakov should have a car sent over soon.” From the corner of his eye Yuri could see the brunette turn to watch him as he moved. The warm feeling in his chest fluttered up again.

He didn’t mention noticing the gaze follow him back to his room, or look back to see if it was still there as he let the robe droop off his shoulders. The tight feeling in his stomach was answer enough.

As he closed the door to keep from putting on too much of a show a very clear thought ran through his mind.

If Otabek wanted to stay around to make sure he saw things through, he could almost help him enjoy himself before signing his life away.

* * *

Nikolai hadn’t cried when they left, nor did Yuri. Both just held one another to the point where Otabek began to worry about the old man’s back.

Yuri didn’t need to be pulled away, but he stood closer to Otabek than usual, as if he needed a little reminder to keep walking.

Potya did nothing to help. The old cat walked all the way to the car before stepping in snow and meowing. At that point Otabek really did need to remind Yuri they had to go.

He wasn’t dragging the Prince away, but from the look on the driver’s face it was almost too obvious they had taken more time than necessary.

But that far away look in Yuri’s eyes was far more important to tend to than any schedule from the palace. The train would wait. He didn’t need to do more than glance at the driver once before getting that point across.

Neither man spoke as the train pulled out of the station. The cloud of snow kicked up as they moved covering the windows. It at least gave Yuri something to focus on as Otabek adjusted a few things.

Despite his teasing about wanting a pillow he didn’t seem to even want to interact. It was a strange sight. Seeing the usually sharp Prince deep in thought. Almost unnerving really.

There was little to drink in the cabin, but he managed to scrape together enough for a glass of tea. Yuri it without any complaint, allowing Otabek to sit beside him while he watched the snow.

Before he had a chance to register just how much time was passing he felt a small weight against his side. The longer he ignored it the heavier it became until he found himself turning to allow Yuri to rest against his chest, the cup of tea tucked under his chin.

They didn’t speak, a small blessing considering Otabek was having a hard time forming complete thoughts. Yuri simply motioned to his hair before returning his gaze out the window.

If that meant “play with my hair again” Otabek assumed he was doing a good job interpreting. Regardless Yuri didn’t correct him.

So they sat together, Yuri pressed against Otabek’s chest, letting the other man’s calm breathing sooth whatever thoughts were running through his head. While Otabek’s hand ghosted through the blonde locks, too content in admiring the other to risk asking what they were.

If the ice tiger just wanted to lounge in his arms, then he’d be more than willing to oblige him. Another welcome addition to the vague Private Knight job description.

Whatever waited for Yuri at the palace was also waiting for him, and he was almost certain an actual set of guidelines would accompany it. For the time being, however, it seemed fair to let the Prince decide what he needed to do.

Otabek certainly didn’t have any complaints.

* * *

For all their shortcomings in scientific advances the Nikiforov’s always knew how to work their cameras. Yuri’s arrival hadn’t been broadcasted as it’s own event, but everything revolving the King’s upcoming wedding had been screened to as many territories as possible for a week.

JJ hadn’t bothered giving an explanation for watching. Isabella encouraged it actually. Of course she always found the guards stationed around the palace to be a special brand of ridiculous so her interest wasn’t exactly pure.

Either way they both sat together as the private car delivered the Prince back home. His crown of blonde hair shining from the moment he stepped out. A shorter man followed him, the black leather a stark contrast to the white marble around them.

No one made any mention of who the new face was as he draped a fur coat around the Prince’s shoulders. No one seemed to notice how his hand lingered a moment longer than necessary or how Yuri’s head turned to watch him move back to his side.

It took watching the Prince lean in to whisper something to the other man before JJ recognized the face. He had no idea who the man was, but there was no doubt he had been present for one of the recordings he had viewed. That he had been lucky enough to witness the Prince dancing in person.

He had seen the look in Yuri’s eyes that made up the King’s mind.

Yuri liked something about that man enough to keep him around. The strength JJ could understand, that was simple enough. The hair he could replicate, he was in need of a trim anyways. If Yuri liked the tough clothes he could find something to match, as it was bound to be cold wherever they met.

The feed continued until the pair walked into the palace, the unnamed man looking back out to scan the crowd as Yuri disappeared. The look in his eyes wasn’t something he had seen before. Determination mixed with something else, something that threatened to fight anyone who followed that wasn’t supposed to. Something that made it very clear who the winner would be if they tried.

He’d be there when the two met, that he was sure of. For a moment he could feel himself being to panic. He’d need a dozen guards to get close to the certainty the man had on his face as he closed the door. That was until Isabella spoke up, completely unaware of his growing panic.

“How about that? Two cute grumpy guys for the price of one.”

* * *

Palace life had taken a tail spin since they left. Everything and everyone had sped up to a hundred miles an hour in order to finish wedding preparations in time. Otabek had done his best to keep track of Yuri before a redhead Lady came and snuck him away with some urgent request to dress the King Consort.

Even the other guards were frantic. Uniforms had bene retouched a dozen times, two handbooks dropped by Otabek’s door, and three very different speeches from the royal advisers on what should and shouldn’t be done.

To say it was a relief to get to his quiet guest room was an understatement.

Outside he could still hear the commotion of the palace, the royal poodle barking in the distance while something was set up outside. in another situation he could picture Yuri picking at the King or trying to fluster Yuuri. Even Sasha seemed to know better than to interrupt whatever he was pulled away for though.

The lingering smell of Potya didn’t exactly make her more fond of their return either.

As a result Otabek sat in the empty room, an outfit sent over by the royal dresser laid out on his bed. Some note had been made about it being intended to represent his home in the South but there was far too much finery on the fabric to look familiar. His mother would’ve been thrilled.

He sent a photo of the outfit as an afterthought.

The barrage of messages that followed should have been expected. Both his sisters raved about his recent appearance by Yuri’s side. His father recommended how to adjust the outfit to something more traditional. His mother cooed over how ‘professional’ he looked in the broadcast.

Yusef asked when he was allowed to make Otabek’s half of the apartment into a private gym.

Having some sense of normalcy again felt more refreshing than he expected.

He only bothered responding to his parents. His sisters would no doubt hear from them that he wasn’t in danger. Yusef could bother waiting. Seeing as he was bound to be running around telling as many people they knew about how he’s supposedly moving into the palace.

If whatever he was doing went on any longer he’d have to give Yuri plenty warning before he met anyone from home.

Home. Now there was something he hadn’t thought of in a while.

Deployment had gotten him so used to being miles away from where he grew up he hadn’t considered just how long he had gone away from it. Even then it had only been a matter of weeks out of recovery before he had been called into the Palace. Since that point his life had almost entirely revolved around Yuri.

The thought made his stomach jump.

He hadn’t even questioned the amount of time the two had been spending together. It was so easy to just fall into the other’s orbit that he hadn’t even considered pulling back.

At the same time this had been what he had longed for since their first meeting wasn’t it? He could make a hundred excuses about his duty to the crown or the need to protect the kingdoms people but it was all just that, an excuse.

Otabek wasn’t standing dressed in finery beyond anything he had ever owned for any reason besides the chance to stand near Yuri a moment longer.

If he was going to play shadow for the Prince he would need to look the part.

In a matter of moments he found a razor in the bathroom, smoothing down his face and tiding the cut of his hair. The longer locks on top were push back into place with more precision than he had ever given before. When that did nothing to help he resorted to running a hand through his hair to loosen it just enough.

The fit of the suit wasn’t perfect, but it least did it’s job. Gold epaulettes embroidered on green velvet shimmered in the mirror. The black panels trailing down his sides cut in well enough to hide where the suit was just a little too tight. A decorative belt cut in at his waist, the gold lace matching his shoulders. A clever way to attach the not entirely decorative sword at his hip.

He didn’t feel regal exactly, but it was close enough.

“They did you up too huh?” He had been so busy adjusting the suit he had failed to hear the door open.

He spun too fast to hide his surprise entirely, causing the figure by the door to snort. A rather unflattering sound falling deaf ears. Whatever regality the lesser had been aiming for with his outfit was tripled in Yuri’s.

Blonde hair braided to one side, strands of silver jewelry woven into a vine like pattern against his head. Silver and blue silk shimmered from his neck to the floor. Panels cut across his hip to chest in a sheer material as iridescent as the crystals adoring his neck.

He looked etherial. Too delicate to touch but at the same time sharp enough to cut anyone who dared.

Otabek was breathless.

“Hm, looks good,” Yuri smirked, walking up to adjust the fold of Otabek’s collar. “I thought they’d put you in armor though.”

“For a party?” he managed to squeeze out a reply.

“You’re my knight. When I’m in charge I’m having all my men in full armor anytime we have guests.” The mischievous smile playing across his lips was making Otabek dizzy. “But this isn’t too bad, you definitely could look worse.”

“Your highness I—“

The door burst open before he had a chance to finish the thought. A very enthusiastic King pulling all joy off Yuri’s face in an instant.

“Yuratchka I said hurry! I can’t keep my Yuuri waiting!” the King whined, completely unaware of the proximity of the younger men.

For a moment Otabek thought he caught some insult about the King’s age before his hands left his collar.

“Calm down, he wont change his mind if you leave him alone for five seconds.” Yuri’s grimace looked all the more adorable in contrast to the decadence of his outfit.

Without a word Otabek followed, glad it was simple enough to pass off wanting to watch how the fabric at Yuri’s waist moved as doing his job. Whether or not the Prince felt where his gaze had landed he wasn’t sure. But he did seem to notice he was within earshot as he added.

“Believe me, I’ve tired.”

* * *

A party, as everyone at the palace learned after Yuuri Katsuki’s arrival, was not a real party until several bottles of champagne were opened.

Seeing as this party in particular had been set up specifically for said Yuuri, the fact anyone was sober past the welcome speech was a miracle.

Yuri had taken it upon himself to confiscate every other drink handed towards the soon to be Duke. Or Prince. He’d need to talk to Viktor about the specifics. If it was up to him he’d just refer to Yuuri as the Better King, but that wouldn’t go over so well on broadcasts.

By the fourth glass of champagne he’d managed to find some sort of amusement in watching the couple dance. For all Viktor’s more irritating habits he was at least good at getting Yuuri to enjoy himself.

Otabek stood by his side, keeping a close eye on the amount of drinks he was taking per stolen slice of cake. Yuri had tried to make a joke about Viktor trying to make the poodle dance next but he must not have been loud enough. The other man had simply stared at his face to the point where he had thought some of the icing had given away the fact Georgi was now without cake again.

He had been about to repeat himself with the grooms made their way back to the table, Yuuri’s cheeks flushed pink from dancing and champagne as he pulled his younger namesake away. Some comment had been made by Viktor about trading but it was too ridiculous to take seriously. Yuuri hadn’t been an active guard for over a year. And he wouldn’t have lent Otabek to Viktor if his life depended on it.

Before he had time to think about what exactly the King had said he was in the middle of the floor, needing to reign in the now very confident Consort.

The music echoing in the hall changed to a quicker tune as the two Yuri’s mirrored one another. Each man’s steps egging the other to move quicker, dip further, kick their silks higher until they were both breathless.

And too his astonishment Yuri found himself smiling.

While his dancing left very visible traces of magic—sharp burst at his feet or cascading from clapped hands— Yuuri’s magic was more subtle. With every spin and playful challenge he managed to wipe away any remaining thought about what else Yuri had returned to do. The only thing that mattered was to outlast the other.

By the time the music ended both men were breathless, bowing to the band as the guests applauded.

Yuri only barely managed to find Otabek in the crowd long enough to smile before a Lady came up to ask for a turn. In the corner of his eye he saw Otabek respond with a small smile and a thumbs up, as if somehow he could clear the woman from being a threat from such a far distance.

Of course he could. Yuri was certain if anyone could it would be his knight.

The dancing continued long after Yuri switched partners, first with a second woman, then with Lord Giacometti who only made it through one song before causing Viktor to pull him away, then with a set of triplets from Yuuri’s home town. He danced until he could no longer feel his feet. The sheer fabric against his skin the only thing keeping him from overheating completely.

He didn’t spot Otabek again until he moved to get another glass of champagne and instead had a glass of water placed directly in his outstretched hand.

“No, no Beka, wrong glass!” he chuckled, speaking louder since he must not have made himself clear the first time.

“No, right glass. You need this more.” For a moment the serious man seemed amused. As if he was enjoying whatever expression Yuri’s face had decided to respond with.

He was not drunk enough to admit it was a pout.

“I’ve been dancing for what, an hour? I can have another glass!” he drank the water regardless, still too sober to thank the other man. “What have you been doing anyway? Are you stealing my champagne? That why you wont let me have more?”

The knight smiled, a small bright thing that caused Yuri’s chest to jump in all kinds of ways.

“No your highness, just—“

“Yura. You can call me Yura. No one’s listening anyway,” he corrected, wanting to hear the fonder name on his tongue.

That soft smile stayed a moment longer.

“No, Yura, I’m not stealing your drinks. I’m just keeping an eye out. Do you want to rest?” Otabek asked.

The care in his deep voice warmed Yuri in a way his drinks had not. Despite his best efforts that was a feeling he couldn’t entirely right off. But he had decided to let himself enjoy what he could. And he enjoyed Otabek saying his name very, very much.

“No I’m fine.” Yuri paused for a moment, eyes sparking wide. “But you should have fun too! Come, dance with me!”

Otabek’s smile disappeared. His deep brown eyes darting around the room and back to Yuri’s. Even with the amount he had drank he could still notice the shade of red boiling up under tan skin. Oh that was so worth the smile leaving.

Yuri did his best to make a note to try and see what it would take to pare the two together.

“N-no. No that’s fine your—Yura. It’s fine,” Otabek spoke quickly. “I’d rather watch, make sure that Lord doesn’t come back to try and dance again.”

Yuri could only laugh, he did have a very fair point. “Fine, watch me in the corner all you want,” he said, lips pulling upwards in to a smirk. The red color in his knight’s cheeks spread further. “But you owe me a dance later, okay?”

Otabek had barely managed to nod before Yuri was pulled away once more.

For the remainder of the night he managed to spot the man in the same corner. And as long as he stood watching, Yuri made very certain to dance just a little better than before.

He had always enjoyed an audience.

 

Yuri was unsure when exactly he found Otabek again to demand they leave. Most likely it happened some time after Lord Giacometti asked to dance with Yuuri. There was no way he was about to stay to see what that would look like.

Instead he chose to hang off his knight’s arm, and then allow said arm to wrap itself around his waist as they walked. Some mention of him needing help balancing. Which was ridiculous, Yuri could balance on Viktor’s crown in heels if he wanted to.

Otabek hadn’t responded to that. But it was true either way.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the walk. Otabek was as stoic as always, focused on something ahead Yuri didn’t bother trying to spot. He wasn’t about to speak unless spoken to so Yuri allowed it. Instead he found himself focused on the strength behind the grip on his waist.

The soft velvet was just barely noticeable through one of the sheer patches each time he moved.

For a moment Yuri wondered what it would feel like without the barrier between them. Every time they had crashed into one another before it had been more or less on accident, and never allowed to venture farther than a little fun. But today was supposed to be a happy night. Yuri was owed whatever happiness there was left for him to get.

He decided some of that had to be related to the arm that was now leading him back to the bedroom.

“Beka,” he broke the silence, stopping the other before he had a chance to drop the Prince off and leave. “Help me undo the jewelry.”

It was an innocent enough order for Otabek to oblige, he still seemed to think some part of Yuri needed taking care of. And while that might have been true, they had very differing opinions on what part that was.

He could feel the other’s presence behind him as he unclasped the jewels around his neck. The sound of metal being carefully placed on the table beside them cued him to turn his head, offering the jewelry wrapped into his braids. A happy coincidence that it required Otabek to step closer and pull at the golden strands.

The pleased hum coming from the Prince’s lips wasn’t entirely staged, but the leaning back against the other man absolutely was.

“You still owe me a dance you know,” he purred.

Otabek was regrettably quiet, his hands staying focused on their task. “You meant tonight?”

“Of course tonight. I’m already in the mood to dance.” If he stressed the word _mood_ more than _dance_ it was purely accidental. “Come on Beka, please? Just one dance.”

To his pleasure the other man finished undoing his hair, moving his hands to the Prince’s waist to turn him. They stood facing one another. Yuri’s flushed cheeks matching his mischievous smile as he watched dark brown eyes scan up and down the man in front of him.

“I’m not much of a dancer. You’re far better,” he finally replied.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll lead.” Yuri nudged closer, just enough to force Otabek to take a step back. Then another, until they were swaying across the floor almost in time to the faint music echoing through the halls.

“Yura.”A sigh. He could’ve listened to that rich voice say his name forever. “Fine, just one.”

_So stubborn._ Yuri didn’t give him the chance to take back his agreement. Instead he moved the hand on his waist to grip him tighter, taking the free hand in his own to lead Otabek around the room.

There was no point in trying to pick up speed. It was far more important to pull the other closer as they turned. To move their hips close enough together so the fabric of his robe caught on the velvet.

He continued to lead Otabek in slow languid steps until he felt the grip on his waist loosen just enough for the hand to drop down to his hip. Their steps never faltered, it might have been an accident. But he was going to encourage it either way.

With ease he rose their entwined hands up, letting Otabek spin him around. While he took advantage of the move to end up closer to the other than before, he didn’t miss how the hand on his hip ghosted across the small of his back. Or miss how it remained there as he pressed against the other’s chest.

One more step and their hips followed, the thick velvet as hard as any armor against the silk of Yuri’s robe. Another step and Otabek was bumped, completely on accident, against a side table. Neither man complained when he pulled the other closer to keep his balance.

Instead they stopped moving, pressed against one another. Yuri smiled, tilting his head down to chuckle.

“Not terrible, you might need a little more practice though,” he teased, playing absentmindedly with their entwined fingers.

He felt Otabek’s voice in his chest before he heard it. Soft and careful, but as beautifully rich as ever.

“Do you plan on showing me then?” he asked.

Yuri’s gaze moved up, catching the deep brown eyes glistening in the dim bedroom light. He didn’t hesitate in agreeing. The hand on the small of his back trailed lower, it’s touch light enough to pull away should Yuri express any kind of displeasure.

“I can show you plenty, if you like,” Yuri spoke, his voice matching Otabek’s easily.

He could feel the other’s breath against his own they stood so close. Their legs slotted into one another with ease. A shiver running up Yuri’s spine as he felt Otabek’s hip graze his own.

Before he knew it their positions where switched. Yuri’s back pressing against the wall when they stepped aside to avoid the table. The hand on his back had found it’s way to his hip, the fabric of his robe more than happy to move to the side to allow warm fingers to brush against a sliver of skin.

“You shouldn’t offer me so much, Yura. It’s not your job to take care of the guards,” Otabek’s low voice rumbled in his chest, and in turn against Yuri’s.

It came as no surprise to him that the fabric of his pants began feel snug. The roll of his hips against the other wasn’t as overt as it could have been. He was too preoccupied with the feeling of Otabek’s breath so close to his neck to focus on anything else.

Yet anyway.

“It’s your job to take care of me huh?” Yuri released their entwine hands to trail his arms across the other’s shoulder’s, pulling him close enough to speak against his lips. He wanted Otabek to feel it when he smirked. “Then do your job.”

The lips so close to his own parted, the smallest sign of surprise before they crashed together.

The grip on his hip jerked him forward, moving him against the other recklessly. The roll of his hips was matched by fingers digging into his side, wanting to control the speed of the movement. The free hand found it’s wait to blonde hair, gripping tight as Otabek moved from Yuri’s mouth to his jawline, mapping out rough kisses on his way to his neck.

A small gasp came when teeth grazed the soft skin. The grip on his hair keeping his head back enough to allow Otabek to explore. With each kiss he attempted to urge the other to move faster. His hands clawing at strong shoulders, his hips rocking smoothly until he could tell he wasn't the only person less than comfortable in their clothing.

One pointed roll of the hips was matched with a low groan. The sharp pain of a mark being left on his neck doing little to slow Yuri down.

Hands pulled at ties, Otabek’s belt hitting the floor first. The metallic sound of the sword hitting the floor soon muffled by the top layer of Yuri’s robe. The velvet jacket was tossed somewhere by the dresser as they made their way to the bed.

Shoes were kicked off haphazardly. It was far more important to grab at any inch of skin their hands could find than it was to bother with laces.

The kisses marking Yuri’s skin only stopped as they toppled over, separated for a moment by the blush bed underneath them.

Yuri made the first move to pull the other close again. His hands raking across Otabek’s sides to pull him over between his legs. Their mouths finding one another just as Yuri’s hand traced over the scar on his side.

He could feel Otabek’s gasp on his lips as his hand trailed up and down the expanse of tough skin, stopping at the top of the other’s pants before breaking the kiss with a playful nip.

Otabek may have more muscle, but Yuri had more leg. Flipping the other man onto his back was almost too simple.

He heard a sharp exhale of air above him as he moved to kiss across the scar. One strong hand found it’s way to his hair as he continued across the path downwards.

He had just managed to press a small bite to predominant abs when the grip in his hair tightened enough to pull his head up. His position didn’t change much, but the fact he had to rest his chin against the tan skin he’d much rather be tasting was the last position he wanted to be in.

“Yura…” Otabek’s voice came out breathy and uncertain, as if he regretted it leaving his mouth the moment it did. “Not now…”

In other instances he might have had more control, but he was getting a very clear message from the bulge pressing against his leg from the man below him that this was not the right thing to say.

The Prince could do nothing but groan when the hand in his hair refused to lighten its grip.

“And why not?” he whined, not caring at all if his voice came out needy.

His response came with far too much clarity. “B-because Yura, you’re marked up enough as is… I’m not getting us caught on the first day back.”

“We wouldn’t get—!”

Otabek merely raised an eyebrow, moving his gaze the distinct marks starting to flare up across Yuri’s collar bone. He didn’t need to mention that wasn’t anywhere near where he started either.

“Oh for the love of, fine! Fine!” Yuri groaned, pushing himself off the other man before falling down beside him, allowing the pillows to swallow him. “But you’re staying here do you hear me? I’m waking up to seeing you shirtless or I’m going to walk right up to Yakov and call Leroy without covering any of this.”

The threat was real, he meant every word.

Otabek knew that and burst out laughing anyway.

One strong arm moved to hold Yuri’s shoulders, shaking his body while he laughed.

For a moment all the frustration faded away. The only thought registering anymore was the rich, luxurious sound coming from the man next to him as he nodded in agreement.

When he was finished laughing he moved to place one regrettably chaste kiss to Yuri’s cheek. He only managed to chuckle an ‘of course’ out before laying back down to try and calm himself.

Yuri didn’t mind too much though. He was far too enchanted with the look to tan skin flushing red beside such a wonderful smile.

He’d never been so okay with going to bed unsatisfied before.

* * *

None of the celebration had been broadcast. Something about the couple wanting to save some bit of the wedding for themselves. The actual ceremony of course would be for any Kingdom with a satellite.

In all honestly JJ didn’t care about watching the King and his Consort dance and drink. The real tragedy was that he only got small glimpses of the Prince from a speech leaked by one of the patrons.

He hadn’t payed attention to the words. He’d become far too focused on trying to figure out if Yuri had simply covered himself in glitter, if it was some of his magic, or if he shown that bright naturally.

Isabella had mentioned Nikiforov family jewels but that wasn’t something he bothered to consider.

The time difference between their lands meant that anyone at the party would be well asleep, or far too busy with other things to bother answering a call. JJ rationalized that made it the perfect time to reach out personally.

It would just be one call, professional save for the time, but he could fain ignorance there.

The message was simple.

_“Your highness, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities. I understand my invitation wouldn’t have been welcomed by either of our lands despite our truce. As long as that’s the case we’ll need somewhere to meet. After the wedding of course. We hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. I’ll be hearing from you soon._

_My best, King Jean”_

After some consideration he left his first name. If anything as a small encouragement for the other to say it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! This was definitely a chapter I wanted to get right.  
> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Otabek had come to expect a certain amount of extravagance from any royal affair. Breakfast with Yuri involved tiered pastry platters and coffee from two regions he previously didn’t know existed. Exercising with the King Consort and the other knights wound up in grand displays of excellence— usually resulting in the King Consort and Yuuri trying to out last one another. Even the fittings he had been forced to suffer through for the “Plisetsky worthy wardrobe”, as Viktor put it, involved far more champagne and sweets than necessary.

That should’ve been enough warning to know the wedding would be worse. Somehow it wasn’t warning enough.

Blue roses decorated every corner of the palace. Gold twine spun from each rail, trailed down from the ceiling, and flowed along every pathway. Candle light danced across marble halls. Lights twinkled overhead, products of every bit of magic the King had stored for the occasion.

Even the royal poodle and Sasha had been adorned just for the big day.

On its own it was breathtaking. In combination with five hundred nobles and their assorted guests, however, it was suffocating.

Otabek managed to last through the ceremony. He saw the King weep. Saw Yuuri reach out his hand too soon to comfort his partner, only to encourage more tears. He heard Yakov’s voice tremble as he read the vows, the old man passing on the final piece of his old kingdom to his successor. He felt the uproar from the crowd when the pair kissed, their applause nearly shaking him from his position.

Most of all he saw Yuri.

Saw the furs carefully draped off his shoulders. Saw the glitter of every piece of jewelry he had lovingly placed against whatever bits of skin were showing: earrings, stacked necklaces, a comb pushing his hair to one side.

He saw the way his eyes glistened when Yuuri bowed to him before turning to Viktor. Saw the small tremor in his bottom lip as words were recited in both Russian and Yuuri’s own language.

He heard his voice clearer than anything else when a chorus of “Long live the Kings” rang through the hall.

Suffering through a thousand nobles would have been worth hearing the way his clear voice trembled.

There wasn’t an opportunity to wipe away the tears that managed to escape. They had barely made eye contact before Yuri was swept away with the couple. His business was with them until the reception, and for a moment he looked too at peace for Otabek to even consider pulling him away.

That just left him to plan out an escape route on his own.

Each room seemed filled with more people than the last. Music bouncing off every service on top of a hundred conversations.

For a moment he spotted Yuri with Lady Mila, the pair sharing gossip most likely at the grooms expense. He was to far to do much, and far below his station toeven try and make his way through the room. All he could do was offer a small thumbs up when the emerald eyes caught his own.

The smile he received in return propelled his heart up and out the nearest window.

Of course with so many people looking to up their station, garner new allies, or even just find someone to fuck the Prince and his family were being kept plenty busy. Even Otabek could only stand in the corner to watch for so long before giving up.

Though it took a fair amount of effort to find somewhere quiet, eventually he stumbled upon a back room, half decorated for guests before abandoned in favor of larger spaces.

He could still hear the music, along with whatever nonsense Christophe Giacometti was trying to get the newlyweds to participate in. For a moment he even though he heard Yuri complain before applause drowned the sound out.

No where in the palace would be entirely quiet, but the longer he lingered by the open window the easer it was to forget the commotion. He only had patience for so much, and Yuri was plenty safe by the the Kings’s side.

It wasn’t long before fireworks began to go off outside, the music in the castle fading as the guests quieted down to watch the display.

The snow outside seemed to glow with each new explosion, blurred reflections of each pattern scattering the ground like a dream.

The display was so enchanting he barely noticed when the curtain to his hide away moved. The click of heals drowned out by the excitement over head. He was completely unaware anyone else was even in the room until he felt the brush of fur against his side. 

“You trying to sneak out on me?” Yuri teased, resting against the windowsill beside him.

How long had it been since he left the party? Not long enough to be considered sneaking away he was sure.

“Just getting some air.”

A set of red fireworks lit up the sky, the light dancing off the many jewels on Yuri’s neck like he himself was magic.

“Right well, while you were getting air I had to watch those two cry into their cake. And try to keep Mila from running off with Lady Sara. And keep Sir Pichit from reciting this whole letter of poetry Yuuri apparently wrote about Viktor. You essentially left me for dead in there,” the cheshire grin on Yuri’s face was practically audible. “I could have you fired.”

Otabek simply shrugged, relishing far too much in the proximity of their bodies to care. “You could.” _But you wont._

The challenge was unspoken but Yuri felt it regardless. Unable to bring himself to actually follow through he settled for the next best solution. Shoving the knight away.

This might’ve worked had Otabek not been as solid as the railing behind them.

Laughter began to bubble up as Yuri tried again and again to shove the other man away. Both of their footing slipping as they tried to remain composure. The game was childish but under the illumination of the fireworks nothing seemed real enough to put too much thought into anyway.

Yuri aimed one final shove at Otabek’s shoulder, missing his mark when the boom of an explosion came a bit sooner than expected. His hand just barely made contact before the prince stumbled forward.

On reflect Otabek caught his waist, keeping him from falling against the railing.

It was becoming too easy to wind up in each other’s embrace and still neither of them seemed keen to do anything to prevent it.

“You drink too much Yura?” Otabek teased, earning himself a small shove to the chest.

“Shut up, I’ve only had one glass!” Yuri’s pout was far too precious to be remotely intimidating.

“You’re a lightweight then? I didn’t realize.”

“Otabek Altin I will push you over the railing you take that back!”

If he hadn’t sounded actually insulted Otabek might have bothered backing down. Instead he began to laugh.

He had never been one for full body laughter. It always started as a low rumble in his chest before actually escaping.

Once it did, however, all aggression had faded away from the man in his arms. Yuri’s eyes reflecting each burst of light behind them as he watched the shorter man laugh. The arms aimed to push again at his chest now hanging off his side gently.

A private moment accompanied by a private embrace. As fickle and timeless as the fireworks outside.

By the time Otabek’s laughter calmed, something that took a far shorter amount of time than Yuri felt it should have, his hands were tangled in the warmth between Yuri’s coat and his actual garments. The smoothness of silk enticed him to grip a bit tighter. Just barely pulling the other against him.

Yuri made no move to retreat, instead lowering his head enough to rest his forehead against Otabek’s. His hands toying idly with the back of his jacket.

Nothing about their closeness felt real. Not the warmth of Otabek’s hands, nor the weightlessness of Yuri’s body against his chest. It must’ve been, but at the same time, was too good to be true.

Either way it was doomed to not last.

“You left early this morning,” Yuri broke the silence, voice just loud enough to hear.

A nod, the grip on his waist staying an honorable distance above his hips.

“I waited until you woke up, I wont get you in trouble over me.” A huff of disagreement. “Yura. You had to get ready. I was shirtless. It would’ve gotten you in trouble.”

“Maybe I want trouble.”

“You are trouble.” The hands at Otabek’s back stilled, a devilish smirk growing on the face before him. “Yura… I’m serious.”

“So am I! It was your idea not to do anything, then you just leave after I wake up? Come on I want to fool around a little bit before I sign my life away to some idiot.”

The bubble popped. Everything was beginning to feel real again, too real to enjoy. The sick feeling rising in his chest was more than proof of that.

“…If you want to fool around you have plenty options.” For a moment Otabek was thankful for their proximity, it at least made it simple to avoid facing Yuri head on.

The blonde head tilted, leaning back to try and read the darker eyes avoiding his own.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Otabek tried to keep his mouth shut, but he’d already opened the flood gates. Yuri feigning innocence only made mess of feelings in his chest swirl faster.

“Is that why we keep doing this?” The grip around his heart squeezed out more than he ever planned to say aloud. “Do you want something that means nothing just to forget about King Leroy?”

Yuri went stiff in his arms. Otabek took it as a sign to step away so he did. The warmth of the fur leaving his body automatically as he closed himself back off. 

Why did he say anything? Why couldn’t he just play along? Having Yuri in any aspect was better than not having him. He could live with being used. Or he could have found a way to.

Why did he pick now of all times to say something?

“Beka,” Yuri’s cautious voice stilled his racing thoughts for a moment. “Otabek…This isn’t…I didn’t mean it like that.”

The fireworks continued outside, lighting the room in small bursts.

“I just, I don’t have much time left,” Yuri chewed on his bottom lip, not used to having to think so carefully about what to say. “We keep doing things because you’re there, always, and it I want you to be. I asked you to be. If me trying to do more than just have you around is too much I get it, I-I’m a lot. This is a lot. You know what you’re right I should just—“

“Yuri.”

The Prince stopped, as dizzy and confused as Otabek felt. For a moment the two just stared at one another. Both unaware of how fast the other’s heart was racing.

“Please don’t.” An exasperated look flashed across Yuri’s face before Otabek took a step forward. “You are a lot. I knew that… I’m just, I’m more selfish than you’re giving me credit for.”

_Breathe. Steady._

“I want you, Yuri. But I can’t have it mean nothing to you. I’m not strong, not like that. Everything, since we met, has been for you. I’d watch every stupid broadcast to see if you were there. Just a glimpse of you was enough. Thinking about you in person was a fucking dream and then here you are and you’re even more incredible and dangerous and I’ve felt less scared in front of things that actually want to kill me. I would do anything to stay here but I just don’t have it in me to have you and lose you like it means nothing.”

Yuri stood before him slack jawed, all the color drained from his face. He’d said too much, gone too far. This is why he didn’t talk. This is why certain things were better left unsaid. Pining is one thing, outright rejection is another.

Another round of fireworks went off before color blossomed back into Yuri’s face. The deep red noticeable even in the dim light.

By the time the thunder hit Yuri’s arms were thrown around Otabek’s shoulders, his hands grabbing at his coat to pull him unbearably close. He barely had time to react before the arms pulled away in order to cup his face, Yuri’s lips colliding with his own with enough force to knock him backwards a few steps.

“Not nothing. Fuck Beka, not nothing.” Yuri’s hands held Otabek’s face steady, his eyes scanning over every inch of the other’s face. “I didn’t know! I just thought… I mean you look like you do. And you were the one that kept pulling away so I thought if anything—“

Otabek’s covered Yuri’s hands in his own, trying with all his strength to ignore the gentle caress of his thumb against his jawline.

“I just want you to want me back Yura. Enough to not have anything between just be about you rebelling.” Otabek paused for a moment. “At least not entirely.”

It was Yuri’s turn to laugh, far less full than Otabek’s. His was lighter, a little more nervous. The feather light touch of his hands trembled against Otabek’s cheek in stark contrast to the increasingly dramatic explosions behind them. Had it not been for the stronger hands keeping them in place Otabek feared he might’ve disappeared with the next burst of light.

“I can want it and rebel a little though right?” A small smile began to grow, far more dazzling than any lights behind them. “Cause if I can’t you really aren’t being fair.”

“But do you want me?” One day Otabek planned to work on his bluntness. Not today but eventually. “If you don’t I can find you someone else.”

The grip on his face tightened, Yuri’s smile flattening out into a straight line. The sound of Otabek’s heart beating in his ears was deafening. Whatever patience Yuri had he was wearing thin and he knew it.

He didn’t deserve it when he leaned forward, catching his lips in his own. There were a thousand reasons Yuri deserved someone more carefree, but it was beginning to seem impossible to shake him.

Fuck it all Otabek deserved a little bit a recklessness too.

The kiss was gentle at first. A small request from Yuri to try and soothe Otabek’s worries. Their hands stayed intertwined until he kissed back, harder, with far more need than he was willing to admit.

Yuri’s hands gripped tighter, pulling Otabek’s face up to his own. One harder kiss leading to another, and another, and another. Strong hands moved from their place above the Prince’s to Yuri’s hair, grabbing at the golden locks in a fist as his other hand found it’s place on Yuri’s waist.

A gentle tug on Otabek’s bottom lip was met with a push back against the wall. Their hips locking against one another before Yuri’s hands moved to toss his fur aside, allowing Otabek’s hand to fist at the silky material of his shirt.

A gasp came from the taller man when his hair was pulled enough to move his head back, his jawline exposed to the other all too easily. Otabek’s lips grazed down from Yuri’s to the exposed skin, testing out the area gently before nipping at a rather soft spot. An encouraging gip on his own hips pulling him closer only giving him reason to bite down harder.

Even in the dark light it was easy to see the hot red trail of skin following Otabek’s kisses. The necklaces preventing him from going any further down, so the extra tug on Yuri’s hair felt completely justified.

If it hadn’t before the gasp of pleasure coming from the other man was more than reassurance enough.

Yuri's grip pulled his hips against him, pressing himself farther back against the wall until they were slotted against each other.

With a roll of his hips Yuri found out just how wound up the other was getting. His lips pulling up into a smirk before another kiss to the neck drew out a gasp.

As horrible as it was to let go of the gold hair, moving a hand down in order to catch the wonderful little sounds with his lips was absolutely worth it. Otabek’s hand now caressing the back of Yuri’s neck to help even out the height between them.

Yuri’s own hands seemed to have their own plans, wandering down from Otabek’s hips to his ass, pulling him against the intoxicating roll of his hips as he let Otabek’s tongue explore his own.

In the back corner of his mind he felt Yuri’s hand lift to make a sweeping motion in the air, the sound of the door registering seconds before he felt the hand return. Yuri’s delicate touch exploring down until coming in contact with the growing problem pressed against Otabek’s thigh.

It was his turn to gasp now, as the delicate touch turned into a teasing grip. The smile on Yuri’s lips breaking the kiss for a moment as he began to stroke, painfully slow, against the tight fabric.

“Here?” was all Otabek could manage before biting down to try and hold back a groan as Yuri’s grip tightened ever so slightly.

“I said,” Yuri purred, kissing down to nip at Otabek’s ear playfully. “That I didn’t have much time. Fuck waiting longer.”

_Fuck me._

Their lips crashed together before either had the chance to say anything else. Hand pulled and tugged the shirts away, discarding them somewhere by the fur coat. Yuri’s grip loosening in order to explore the wide expanse of skin beneath him. The metal of his jewelry dragging across their chests as Otabek worked on the tie of Yuri’s ungodly tight pants. 

The second the pants hit the floor the Prince was lifted up, his hips pressed back against the wall, pinned into place as he wrapped his legs around the stronger man’s torso. The clink of jewelry an obscene warning of things to come.

They only parted to catch a breath, Yuri’s hips grinding down impatiently with such ease Otabek wondered what else his agile body was capable of.

Had it not been for the quiet moan of his name he would’ve spent more time trying to figure out just how many ways those legs could work. Instead feeling Yuri hard against his abdomen was a far more important issue.

Without a word he lifted one hand to Yuri’s mouth, thumb ghosting across his bottom lip before demanding him to wet his fingers. Which he did, far too happily. If Otabek could outlast the dangerous nymph in his arms it would be a miracle.

Yuri’s own hands busied with working Otabek’s pants away as best as he could. A small push from one leg sending them to the floor as the hands withdrew from his mouth. A very demanding kiss replacing them as he was worked to complacency.

The devilishly steady roll of his hips soon became too much to bear, as Otabek’s left once again as he pulled the other man down against him. Their moans lost in each others kiss as their bodies began to move together, slowly at first, until Yuri was practically begging for more.

And Otabek, ever loyal, gave the Prince as much as he asked for until he was all but screaming his name. Over and over, drowned out in the finale of fireworks outside. Otabek’s own finishing moments etched on the pink skin across Yuri’s collar bone, leaving no chance he would be forgotten come morning.

Neither man could form a sentence for the remainder of the night. In fact, they barely gave each other the chance to say more than a few words before crashing back against one another until eventually exhaustion took them some time near morning.

* * *

He was sure this time he’d gotten the time difference right.

Two advisors checked and Bella kept an eye on the royal feed to make sure he was giving them proper time to recover from the celebrations, but still his calls went unanswered.

Yakov had given him a direct line to Yuri’s phone after he’d grown fed up with his own office being interrupted so many times; and still that did nothing to help.

On the third try the line paused, no video feed was connected but the audio tracker lit up in it’s place.

“Ah there you are! Sorry for waking you up but Yakov said it would be best to discuss our affairs personally and I have to agree with that don’t you—“

_“Leroy?”_ There was a very clear sound of bed sheets being moved. _“Yakov gave you this line?”_

“Yes, he said he couldn’t reach you himself and they’re monitored regardless.”

_“Don’t call me again. I’ll call you. I’m not talking business in bed.”_

The line died without another word, the nervous buzzing in JJ’s chest only growing until Bella’s hands on his shoulders pulled him back to earth.

“He sounded nervous, you heard that right?” Bella’s hands moved in small, soothing circles. “Does he not want me to be friendly?”

“He doesn’t have friends. He probably doesn’t know what that means. Wait a bit to see if he’ll call you. If he doesn’t we’ll send another letter. It’s not like he’ll back out now.”

If there were such things as angels Bella must’ve been one. Regardless of any marriage he walked into JJ would never forget that.

“But maybe tone down the JJ-Style just a bit. All the Nikiforov’s like things a bit less… loud.”

A very blunt angel.

* * *

Otabek’s arm was still around Yuri’s waist when answered the call. He’d assumed the noise had just been an alarm he forgot to turn off but he had been too lucky for it to have just been that.

Hearing King Leroy first thing in the morning was the last possible thing he wanted.

By the grace of any existing god Otabek slept through the phone call, only pulling Yuri close when he attempted to move away. He had no right to act so gentle still. He wasn’t even awake to be blamed for the fluttering feeling in Yuri’s chest.

Even the good things in Yuri’s life weren’t fair.

Gently he brushed a hand through Otabek’s dark hair, mesmerized by the difference in texture to his own. The small curls forming at the back of his neck from sleep and their attempt to shower together. If he had his way he would’ve spent the entire morning letting that head rest on his chest, but it was only a matter of time before JJ called again.

He was going to make Yakov regret even having his private line.

“Beka… Beka it’s morning,” he said with a gentle tap of the shoulder.

The other man’s face scrunched in protest.

“You’re not a morning person,” he muttered, deep voice rumbling against Yuri’s chest.

“I have work to do.” A displeased grunt came before the head on his chest moved to look up at him. “Beshka come on, its a video call, you we need clothes. We can stay in bed though.”

Pink blossomed on the sleepy face below him, the endearment hanging in the air long enough for Yuri to realize his mistake.

Otabek’s lips were only starting to repeat the name when he was pushed back off abruptly. Yuri’s own embarrassment waking himself up far quicker than any phone call.

Grabbing a shirt as fast as he could Yuri began to dress himself, tossing anything that seemed large enough back over Otabek before he had a chance to think.

“And try to something with your hair. You look too cute to be scary and that’s the last thing I need right now.”

“…Cute?”

“I said fix it Otabek!”

* * *

_Breathe. Breathe. Pick it up._

“Prince Yuri! I was wondering if I’d hear back from you today. I didn’t realize the time zones were that different.” JJ hadn’t been waiting by his phone for the royal seal to pop up. He especially hadn’t taken dinner in his offices just in case. He had plenty of other work to get done anyway.

The blonde face scowling down from his phone’s projection was just a happy coincidence.

“The castle is moving slower today. We are allowed some enjoyment without you spoiling it.” The Prince’s green eyes seemed so much sharper in person. Absolutely terrifying and still he found himself unable to look away.

“I’m not trying to spoil anything Yuri. I’m just trying to figure out our deal. If you were serious about your offer we do need to meet in person. And I didn’t receive an invitation to anything.”

Yuri’s resolve wavered for a moment. His eyes darting to look at something off screen before facing the camera again. Something about him looked different than it had on the broadcasts.

When he inclined his head to apologize for invitation JJ noticed his hair was a bit more tousled than usual. Just beyond him the bed sheets were equally messy.

“It wouldn’t have been safe and you know that. We’re still at war. You have troops posted near our mountains don’t think I haven’t heard of that,” his voice was more bitter than necessary. Odd.

“I’m sure you and your King have your own safeguards in place too. It’s all just precaution.”

“Precaution gets good men hurt.” Green eyes stared daggers across the screen. The accusation was personal. As though JJ had came and hurt something with his own hands.

Guilt wasn’t a usual feeling for the King, but the longer Yuri held his gaze the more he felt the need to apologize. Individual soldiers were really even named. He’d never thought the Prince would be that concerned with his commoners.

It was touching really.

“I’ll make sure no one does anything until we have an official agreement… But we do need to meet for that. There are merchants in the south that do business with us both. It’d be an easy place to talk without worrying about each other’s men.”

The Prince cast another look off screen, his head turning just enough for JJ to see the discoloration on the edge of his jawline. Far too high to have been from any necklace.

JJ’s stomach was in knots when he paired that with the unmade bed.

“A city called Almaty,” he said too quickly. “It’s technically your territory but they’ve been allowed trade with us, too.”

Yuri froze, for a moment it seemed as though the feed had frozen. The quiet mumble of a voice off screen was the only thing proving the call was still live.

“…I’m sorry. My knight was just… Yes. Almaty will work,” Yuri said cautiously. It wasn’t lost on JJ how his gaze drifted back off screen at the reference to the knight.

If he had been a better man he would’ve dropped the case. But he was still young, and all too familiar with knowing when someone else was being placed above him.

“What was your knight saying? I can’t see him here.”

Yuri’s face lost all color, his eyes darting back from their focus off camera to JJ’s before he motioned the other man forward.

Immediately JJ recognized him from their arrival broadcast. The dark skin and black hair standing in stark contrast against Yuri’s own. The height of his collar far more than what was necessary.

“He’s from Almaty. I was making sure he thought it’d be a safe place to meet. He agrees.” The other man nodded, his stern features unreadable.

“What’s his name?” JJ hopped his voice sounded confident. That the dryness in the back of his throat could be ignored.

He would really appreciate it if he could deal with at least one person that wasn’t more attractive than himself.

“Otabek Altin,” the knight said. His rich voice equally intoxicating as Yuri’s.

Jealousy was one thing, jealousy and desire were far too confusing for him to handle.

“I’ll look forward to meeting you in person as well then, Sir Altin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this wasn't a massive mess of a chapter. Thank you all so much for your kind words! As always let me know what you think. It really does mean so, so much to me.
> 
> xo


	10. Chapter 10

“What’ll it be like when we get there?”

“Not as much snow. Kind of grey though, this time of year.”

“…And you’re sure it’s safe?”

A pause, the light in their cabin dimming as the train shot through another tunnel.

“As safe as it can be.”

Almaty was only a few hours ride from the capital, assuming the snow near one of the mountain passes was soft enough to allow them through. As it stood, they only had to reroute twice, passing underneath the terrain instead of dealing with clearing the tracks.

Yuri had barely spoken since the journey began. Instead he rested, head against Otabek’s chest, passing in and out of a restless sleep as they traveled further and further South.

The honeymoon train and left before them, a big display of tears and promises to bring back gifts in an attempt to brighten the young Prince’s mood but all it seemed to do was wear him out faster. Feigning excitement never came easy to him, but for a moment he tried. Even he cared enough to let the couple leave happy.

If anything, that on top of the stress of having to meet a certain King in person made it easier to travel in piece. Yuri seemed to complain a lot less as long as he was focused on just taking naps.

“Your family will be there?” the blonde muttered, adjusting his position to stretch out across the seat.

Otabek nodded above him, hand ghosting through the blonde strands. It’d become routine. Any time Yuri was tense or needed to focus on something outside his head he’d find himself in a position to allow the other to play with his hair. Who it benefited most they weren’t exactly sure, but they fit the habit into their lives seamlessly.

“My youngest sister and my mother have offered you to stay with them. My oldest sister lives with her own family now but I can’t promise she wont show up anyway.” The tunnel ended, soft light flooding back into the cabin. “They’ve been excited about meeting you since I came to the palace.”

“Hm,” Yuri’s chin bobbed in acknowledgment, “and if I want to stay somewhere else?”

“Yakov said you have permission to use the Governor’s estate. They’re out preparing for JJ anyway.”

The man in his lap grew quite again. His eyes closed in an attempt to ignore anything in the world around him. A small casual gesture no doubt perfected over years of shirking responsibilities.

“We can stay there. I don’t want to get their hopes up for anything,” Yuri spoke quietly, “We’ve already fucked that up for us.”

Otabek stopped playing with Yuri’s hair to glance down at him. They hadn’t spoken about their night together, even if they were barely apart afterwards. JJ’s call had popped the little sex-clouded bubble they were living in and life had to move on without pause.

Somehow it felt like the longer they were by each other’s side the easier whatever they were doing would be to explain.

It was either that or hope they it didn’t blow up in their face the second Yuri had to at least try to tolerate King JJ.

“Maybe if we… If nothing happened we could just go back to…” Yuri’s head turned, his eyes opening to gaze up at the other man. “…Fuck to what you pining and me ignoring it?”

A flush began to color Otabek’s cheeks. “I wasn’t pining.”

“You stare at me all the time. That’s pining.”

“I’m your guard it’s my job.”

“It’s pining.”

For a moment the light in Yuri’s eyes returned, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards into a smile. Teasing seemed to be a foolproof way to lift his spirits. Even if it was at Otabek’s expense.

Otabek shoved Yuri lightly in retaliation, careful not to push him off his lap entirely. His own smile growing as a quite chuckle bubbled up from the solemn prince.

“But it’s also my job,” Otabek’s gaze softened, “So I’ll know if you need to be pulled out of this. You’re not exactly good at hiding when you’re annoyed.”

A pink flush graced Yuri’s cheeks as he scoffed. He couldn’t deny anything, but he wasn’t about to act pleased about it either.

“Just don’t get caught pining, or whatever you want to call it. I will fight that idiot if I have to but it’s going to make the whole ‘stop attacking us’ thing more annoying.”

Otabek could only smile.

“I know, Yura. I know.”

* * *

They had arrived in Almaty for a grand total of five minutes before the hazy peace around them broke. Excited squealing burst from the crowd as a young girl with dark hair barreled forward.

On instinct Yuri pulled back, only to notice the girl’s trajectory skipping over him entirely. She instead jumped in one fluid motion into Otabek’s arms. The fact he had to drop the luggage in order to brace himself seemed not to concern her in the slightest.

“You’re back! Oh finally, we’ve been waiting for ages! Do you know how many times we had to watch that wedding broadcast to see you? Your dumb friends kept telling us you were there but we couldn’t spot you! Sofia made Dimitri and Yusef come to point out the back of some man’s head and it was definitely not you.”

How the girl managed to speak so much without breathing Yuri had no idea.

“Sabina, dear, let him breath,” a second, significantly calmer voice, followed.

To Yuri’s horror Otabek was smiling. Actually smiling. The second of shock on his face replaced with something fond and, god help him, amused. He never had reason to doubt Otabek before now, but suddenly Yuri questioned just how good a guard he could really be.

It took a moment for his disgust to calm down enough to notice the way their hair shone the same shade of brown, and how their eyes both titled upward at the same angle, and though the girl’s face had a fair amount of softness to her cheeks, both their features stood sharp against their skin.

He’d been warned about a sister, but he couldn’t have pictured anyone looking like Otabek ever acting so… loud.

“You mentioned the Prince, is he here? Yusef said you were with him, like, all the time! I knew I had a good feeling about—“

“He’s right here actually,” Otabek cut the girl off quickly, the lightest of blushes creeping onto his cheeks. “If you weren’t running you might’ve seen him.”

Yuri wasn’t sure if this was amusing or a betrayal, as the girl’s attention quickly snapped onto him. Her eyes blowing wide with excitement as she wriggled her way out of Otabek’s grasp.

Thankfully her outburst was blocked by a smaller woman placing a hand on her shoulder. Her hair covered in a green silk wrap, but the amber of her eyes a carbon copy of Otabek’s.

Yuri hadn’t known his own mother for long, but he’d known Lilia. He knew the ‘That’s Enough’ touch all too well. Of course, in his case it was normally stopping him from pushing Viktor out a window instead of assaulting people at train stations.

“You’ll have to forgive my daughter, your highness. We’ve all been very excited to meet you,” the woman spoke, her voice as clear and soothing as Otabek’s was deep. “My son told us so much about you.”

Now this was something he could enjoy talking about.

And judging by the way Otabek’s face only darkened in color, it seemed like the perfect time to do just that.

“Oh did he? He doesn’t talk that much, can’t imagine what he’d say.” Yuri tried not to look too happy about getting a chance to embarrass the other man. Mainly out of respect for his mother.

“He loves talking about your pretty hair! And your fancy fur coats, and all of your cats, and how you dance super good and can bend in half like, really easily. Beshka can barely touch his toes!” Sabina’s cheerful voice rang high above Otabek’s attempts to hush her.

Maybe the girl wasn’t terrible after all.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Yuri said with a smirk. “I didn’t realize he was so chatty.”

Otabek’s face had turned a delicious shade of beet-red as he turned all his attention to the luggage. Somehow the loading of a few bags into the back of a car became an all consuming task. Though despite his best efforts Yuri knew he was still all too aware of what everyone else was saying.

He was absolutely going to bring up the flexibility thing when they got to the Governors house.

“Well, chatty might be the wrong word,” his mother smiled knowingly. “Just mentioning it once is enough to know it’s important. His father is the same way.”

After seeing one of the sisters and his mother, he could only assume Otabek’s behavior came from somewhere else. They probably looked exactly the same, judging by how much even the bubbly teenager looked like her brother.

Years ago Yuri longed for that sort of family. It seemed so different than piroshki and whatever Yakov and Lilia were. Sabina and Viktor were probably a close match. Even if Sabina would grow to keep all her hair unlike some people.

“The car is packed,” Otabek’s voice finally rejoined the conversation. “We really should get Yuri to the Estate. It’s going to a busy day.”

Busy meaning wedding talk. And JJ. And the potential for Yuri to commit regicide or throw himself out the window. Very busy.

“Of course. If you need anything while you’re here just tell us. We’ve all missed you, Beshka.” His mother did little more than turn her cheek to demand a kiss goodbye. A kiss that, too Yuri’s delight, Otabek had to bend down to give.

“Yeah! And make sure to give that dumb King hell for us! He totally ruined my camping trip to the seaside this year,” Sabina narrowly escaped a slap to the arm, her reflexes just slightly faster than the older woman’s. “Not cool.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that,” Yuri said. The women looked like they were about to bow, or at least were considering it before he offered a smile. “I’ll let you steal him back before we leave.”

The women smiled, Sabina’s face far more devious than the warm glow radiating from Mama Altin.

A second round of goodbye kisses from Otabek, mainly demanded by Sabina before they were allowed to get into the car. Yuri had almost felt the urge to hug his mother goodbye, but settled for her holding his hands instead. If she got a hug Sabina would’ve demanded one too, and that he could wait for.

The warm aura never left his mother’s face once. Even as their car headed in the opposite direction of the station.

It wasn’t until they were well on their way to the estate that Yuri realized he had been leaning on Otabek’s arm from the moment they sat down. Even through his mother’s instructions to estate.

After the ten minute drive turned into twenty, they realized they had been sent on the scenic route.

* * *

The estate had been left all but empty. Every inch gone over twice as a security protocol. Anything that might have made it feel like a home had been moved into closets and chests, leaving bare bones and ivory furniture reminding them this was far from a peaceful vacation.

Yuri had barely touched his food before muttering something about needing a bath. Judging by the look on Otabek’s face as he left the room he knew the man didn’t believe him, but he at least had the decency to not follow.

The bathroom, like most of the city, had been built to feel warm and colorful. Intricate tiling along the walls and across the floors. Warm toned marble on the counter tops. Even the curtains were more heavily patterned than the ones at the palace.

On a good day Yuri would’ve relished in the luxury of everything. But as it stood, the best part of the trip seemed behind him. All he could focus on now was the amount of steam in the air, and if there was any chance he could suffocate if he made it thick enough.

Instead he settled on slipping down under the water, closing his eyes tight to let his body float weightlessly until his lungs demanded air. He may have to let his body breath, but that didn’t mean he had any plans to leave the tub until he was pruned beyond recognition. He had to stay for a while anyway in order to let the oils in his hair work as they should. He wasn’t bout to face the King with less than perfect hair. He did have a reputation to uphold.

With expert care he moved the waterlogged hair out over the side of the tub, leaning his head back to keep them from spilling into the sudsy water.

It wasn’t nearly as comfortable a headrest as Otabek’s thighs, but it would have to do.

Even if Otabek radiated heat, knew just where to put pressure against his scalp, and somehow managed to stay soft despite the solid muscle of his legs. Legs that Yuri hadn’t seen quite enough of bare. He’d been too focused on other parts of his body to appreciate that in particular.

And really Otabek had spent an unfair amount of him getting familiar with Yuri’s legs for him to not have been able to return the favor. Just the thought of Otabek’s dedication to every curve of his body was enough to make the already warm room uncomfortably hot. His mind running over the way Otabek had tossed him down on the bed and how he kept a hand on the small of his back to pull him close over and over again.

The memory of Otabek between his legs and the heat of the water absolutely nothing to sooth tension begin to pool in the base of his stomach. He had almost begun to reach down and deal with the situation when he remembered just how close he was to the actual Otabek.

If he only had so many days of freedom left he was not about to pass up for hazy memories over the real thing.

 

Storming out of the bathroom in little more than a satin robe might not have been the smartest decision, but the look on Otabek’s face when it slipped down as he entered the kitchen was absolutely worth it.

They’d leave the rest of the dishes to be done in the morning. Or before they left. Anytime but now.

At the moment the only thing Yuri wanted to use the counters for was to keep Otabek standing when he moved to his knees. Or as a place to lean his torso against when he was pulled back up by the damp bun on the top of his head. His ability to hook his leg so easily up against the marble eliciting the most sinful sounds from the man behind him.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his family found out about Yuri’s flexibility before or after Otabek experienced it first hand. Either way Yuri had to agree with Sabina. He did love “talking” about it.

Yuri had a very strong suspicion they were some of his favorite conversations.

* * *

Hair, check.

Clothes, check.

Ring—

He hadn’t brought a ring.

“Bella! Bella I don’t have anything to give him!”

They had spent so long on the ride over rehearsing what to say. JJ had completely forgotten about an engagement present. He hadn’t even met Yuri and already found a way to ruin things.

“It’s a first meeting Jean, you can buy him something while we’re in town if you really think it’s necessary,” Bella’s voice came from around the corner.

While JJ went over his arrival look again and again she had been setting up the meeting room. The office had to be cozy, but not too romantic, but not dull enough to give Yuri a reason to call him boring. It was a delicate balance and his own personal design choices got him thrown out of the room within minutes.

“But he’ll know I didn’t plan anything then! You’ve seen his knight, I can’t just show up empty handed when he’s got a guy like that around. I’ll look pathetic!” JJ had never been good with casual emotions. He was either on top of the world, or life was ending. There was never an in between.

“You wont look pathetic, dear,” Bella said, returning to the room to kiss the top of the King’s head. “You’re going to be taller than that knight. And if you brush your hair back you’ll have a similar haircut. If anything that’ll keep his interest.”

“But I want to give him something. We’re talking about getting married, I have to at least try to get him to like me as a person,” JJ’s voice quieted was he spoke. “I don’t want to make him do this if he really does hate me.”

Isabella watched her King softly. They’d grown up together, promised each other their lives, but they had always known they wanted different things. Isabella wanted to learn, to see the world, to do as much as she could while she could. JJ always wanted to be loved.

Somewhere deep down he knew taking Nikiforov territory by force would never accomplish that, but until recently it was his best option.

Until Yuri was desperate enough to reach out to him, just hearing more voices calling for King JJ would have been enough. Now she doubted he’d be happy until he heard his name in that old Russian lilt.

There would be no peace until they’d at least tried to win the Prince over.

“What about one of your necklaces? A ring might be to serious right now, but the necklaces still have your crest.” If the interlocking J’s could be called a crest. Honestly the entire royal family was just hoping it was a phase he’d grow out of after a few years on the throne.

They were still waiting for that day.

“You think he’ll wear it?” JJ asked, toying with the chains around his neck.

“I think we should focus on him just taking it first,” Bella smiled. “He might wear it eventually.”

It took a moment for JJ to agree, his head nodding every so slightly. Reining in his expectations was never enjoyable. If it was going to take baby steps to make things work he’d just have to learn a little more patience.

It wasn’t long before preparations were finished.

And after Bella advised him against one of bigger chains, all his hopes for the meet sat contained. Wrapped in blue velvet between his seat and the one waiting for Yuri.

* * *

_“If I saw we need to leave, you pull me out that second.”_

_“He wont touch you.”_

_“And keep your eyes on me. If he was going to play some kind of trick now would be the best time.”_

_“I swear on my life, I won’t let anything happen to you.”_

 

Yuri stood, fur wrapped around his shoulders like armor. Hair tied up and tight, braids wrapping their way from his ears to a bun on his head. Every piece of jewelry he had placed had been deliberate. Sharp glittering warning to keep the King an arms distance away.

Even Otabek gave him space as readied themselves.

Now in the embassy, all polished sandstone and cold marble, did the Prince live up to every rumor of the Ice Tiger.

A name given as a loving joke from Viktor, now encompassing every inch of his being as they waited for the King.

A King with the audacity to broadcast across boarders, promising things he couldn’t deliver, talking himself up to be greater than any Nikiforov.

A King who took Yuri’s appointment as an heir as an opportunity to tease their line for needing to adopt in family so far removed they had to cling to their magic for proof.

A King who’s idea of a grand entrance was bursting through the doors with almost as much showmanship as Viktor himself.

“Ah you came! It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person Yuri!” The King’s smile was so bright Yuri forgot how to respond for a moment.

Sheer audacity like that was a rarity. Being addressed by his first name by stranger, even rarer.

Had Otabek not been there to step between the realization that he was being treated casually would definitely not ended well.

“Your highness,” Otabek said, more for the sake of soothing Yuri than anything else. “We’re glad you got here safely.”

Yuri wanted to strangle JJ, push him around until he acknowledged he had just as much, if not more power in this city than he did. He make him regret ever even thinking to be casual.

He was right in the middle of his plans to assassinate the King when he saw his gaze change to take Otabek in. That was less playful, less teasing, more curious.

More like how he first looked at Otabek.

Oh he was going to enjoy throwing that asshole out a window.

“Are we going to stay here saying hello or are we getting this over with? I don’t like wasting time,” Yuri cut through, earning a cautious “Be Nice” stare from Otabek.

“Getting to know each other isn’t wasting time. I think it’s kind of important,” JJ almost seemed sincere before adding. “At least that’s how we’re taught back home, maybe it’s different where you’re from?”

The shorter woman at his side gave him the same look Otabek still had.

“This isn’t a date, your highness,” Yuri said through gritted teeth. “This is a business negotiation.”

JJ’s smile faltered for a second, his wide eyes losing their spark for just a moment.

With a practiced ease the smile returned, the King as bright as ever as he walked past Yuri to open the door to the office. The flourish he’d let himself into the hall with noticeably absent.

“Right, business. In that case after you,” the King smiled. “But I do want to get to know you some, I’m not the biggest fan of marrying strangers.”

Yuri tried to ignore the feeling of Otabek going tense beside as they walked into the room. The blue velvet of the jewelry box weighing him down the second he realized what was happening.

This was real. This was happening.

“Then lets get to know each other,” Yuri said, sitting down across from the box, purposefully leaving it untouched. “You can decide if you want to go through with this after.”

Otabek’s presence at his side was the only comfort he felt as he watched the King move to sit across from him. All pomp and circumstance fading a way the moment they locked eyes.

“I can’t wait.” Yuri felt a chill run down his spine as the playfulness in JJ’s eyes turned into something darker. Something far hungrier than he was expecting. “So, where should we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back. Took a little time away with the holiday and all, but that made figuring out a few things here a lot easier! As always, thank you so much for reading and let me know what you think. Those of you that've been keeping up with things are really so amazing, I can't being to thank you enough. Until next time!


	11. Chapter 11

There’s a look that happens when two animals are trying to decide if they want to say hello or if they want to fight. Bodies are tense, ears pinned back, eyes blown wide. It’d happened when Sasha met Makkachin, and again when Sasha met Potya. In the wild it was bound to happen everyday.

But here, in the small meeting room, it was becoming terrifyingly real.

Yuri and JJ had barely taken their eyes off one another, as though some how looking away would give the other room to launch some sort of attack.

They danced around curt answers about their family, the size, if everyone was healthy, maybe a name or two. Still Yuri seemed reluctant to say anything more than a sentence in response; his guard well up any time JJ attempted to get personal.

From the looks of things, it was starting to wear on the King.

“Do you even have any hobbies? You’re just making it sound like all you do is sleep,” JJ said, his frustration creeping into his voice.

“I told you I practice the dances. I’m sorry I can’t slack around as much as you,” Yuri slipped in the dig as he grew equally impatient.

“I don’t slack around! If anything you’re more spoiled than I am.” The King’s eyes narrowed, the tension in his body becoming more and more visible each second. 

“You know nothing about me! You have no right calling me anything!”

“I know I know nothing about you, that’s the whole point! I am trying! I thought you were trying too!” Otabek’s eyes never left the King, his frustration far to close to bubbling over. “What, did you agree to this meeting just to flaunt your little boy toy Knight and drive me crazy?”

All at once, the world around them came crashing down.

All color drained from Yuri’s face in the blink of an eye. Sheer terror freezing him into place.

They didn’t dare to move, they didn’t even dare to breathe.

Nothing should’ve given them away. Any marks left had been meticulously covered, Yuri’s necklaces layered to cover the remainder of any marks his shirt couldn’t. They had barely even spoken to each other since entering the room yet here they sat, watching a months worth of planning blow up within a second.

Yuri’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he tried to speak. His eyes blown wide in fear.

He couldn’t do anything to save himself. He’d been too shocked to even string together a few insults to distract the King.

Instead the two men sat before him, completely and utterly ruined.

“Well?” JJ cut through, seeming undisturbed by the world ending. “Well did you? Cause that’s really low. Even for the “Ice Princess” or whatever you want to go by.”

“I’m not… I didn’t…”

“I mean shit I get why you want to fuck him but you could’ve at least told me about it.”

JJ sounded frustrated, disappointed even. But somehow, not enraged.

Somehow he didn’t seem to want Otabek tossed out the window, or Yuri in chains.

Yuri assumed that was only because the world did actually shatter and this was some weird limbo meant to make him feel guilty. That or JJ was smart enough to wait until they were leaving to have them shot from behind.

“This has nothing to do with the peace deal—“

“Oh come on Princess! Yes it does! This isn’t just some peace negotiation this is a marriage. That you proposed. If you’re going to make your side piece part of the deal you should at least tell me. I could’ve written something down about him too.” The King crossed his arms. It took a moment before Yuri could recognize the expression on his face.

God help him the King was actually pouting.

If this was some new form of torture it was working marvelously.

Behind him Otabek’s entire body had gone cold. One hand locked on the hilt of his sword while the other hung perfectly still at his side. At any moment he seemed ready to yank Yuri away, fight off the King and the guards outside. Every inch of his body was waiting to pull the trigger and launch.

Had it not been for the fact he was sitting Yuri might’ve been in the same position.

Maybe the point was to give them both a heart attack. Yuri heard once from Yakov those could be brought on by stress. And he was most definitely stressed.

“You can’t be serious,” Yuri managed. “W-where is this even coming from?”

“From your broadcasts! You two always on screen together and trust me I know weird looks.” JJ’s pout only worsened. “And you called me from your bed. You had marks on your neck and the sheets were a mess, I’m not stupid.”

_Fuck._

The King seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction. His arms stayed crossed over his chest. His lips curving down the longer he went without a response. But still, his weapons sat untouched, his guards weren’t called, and he had yet to raise his voice.

Either he had some sort of plan, or was just incredibly, incredibly naive.

“Okay. Yeah. Fine, what do you want? Me to admit to seeing other people? It’s not like I give a shit about my reputation in your country. Call off the whole damn thing, just do something already!” Yuri snapped, unable to keep himself lashing out.

JJ’s eyebrow’s moved upward, more surprised with the outburst than expected. Whatever response he was looking for it obviously wasn’t that.

“Why would I do that? I just wanted to know about Beks there. Most people advertise two for one deals instead of being all sneaky,” JJ stated, although it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What the hell does a two for one mean?!”

“Beks?” Otabek’s voice was barely heard under Yuri’s.

Both men at the table shut up automatically, their attention going directly to the shorter man in back of the room.

JJ’s face lit up, a smile blossoming in place of the pout.

Yuri was seething.

“Yeah! I’m not so great with languages from around here, and Beks is easier to say. Or Ota maybe, whichever you like more,” JJ beamed.

“You don’t get to give him a nickname you idiot this has nothing to do with him!”

“It does though,” JJ said leaning back. “You like him so you wont replace him, so it’s only fair the two of us get along. Besides, I could use a knight too.”

To add insult to injury JJ smirked. Actually, physically smirked in Otabek’s direction.

This was definitely meant to be torture.

“Leroy, leave him alone! The deal is between the two of us. Otabek isn’t required to have anything to do with you. Whatever your deal is here you need to figure it out now, or I’m scrapping the entire idea. We can find away to end this stupid war by force if you don’t want to cooperate.” Yuri stood before there was any chance to stop him, purposefully blocking the space between the other men.

The smirk left JJ’s face, his attention focusing back on the Prince. How he managed to change expression so fast was remarkable. From pouting one moment, to flirtatious, and now to some strange level of concern. It was infuriating.

More so because each expression felt far to genuine for Yuri to trust from someone like him. Royalty never wore their expressions on their sleeve like that.

Even Viktor knew how to put up an act.

“Wait come on, I’m just trying to understand—“

“There’s nothing for you to understand! This is business. I’m not proposing to marry you because I love some foreign ass who’s trying to tear down half my country! I came here to do a job and if you’re not going take that seriously you can screw off.” Yuri moved to the door before JJ could stop him, Otabek in tow.

With a loud scrape of his hair JJ stood, faster than he should, panic starting to surface under his concern.

“No come on we can talk, just sit back down,” he said, reaching out to try and pull him back to the table.

Otabek blocked his reach before Yuri even turned around.

JJ looked down to the Knight, his eyes wide, pleading with him for help.

“…Maybe we can try again tomorrow? We still need an agreement.” Yuri scoffed as Otabek spoke, the door already opened by the time he was finished.

“Fine tomorrow. But I don't want to see you at all until then Leroy. Is that clear?”

JJ nodded, mouthing his thanks to Otabek as the prince left.

The advisor from before hurried in as Yuri left, her small frame pushing JJ back to talk in rapid fire French.

Yuri couldn’t care less what they were talking about. He just wanted to put as much distance between himself and the King as possible before his myriad of emotions turned to anger. Regardless of how stupid he seemed Yuri knew he could dangerous, the scar across Otabek’s chest was proof enough.

Why he seemed to be forgetting that in favor of humoring the idiot he couldn’t understand.

All he knew for sure was that their visit was going to be harder than expected.

* * *

Why did he have to talk so much?

Why did he never know when to shut up?

JJ had single handedly ruined his reputation as a negotiator and any chance he had of getting close with Yuri Plisetsky in a matter of hours.

He hadn’t meant to scare him so badly. He just wanted to address the elephant in the room.

The very attractive, tan, muscular elephant in the room.

How was he supposed to know Yuri would react so poorly? It wasn’t like he even tried to hide the bed thing. JJ hadn’t even said it was a deal breaker but still here they were.

Yuri locked up the governors estate while JJ hid out in some empty bar, nursing his sorrows with an old bartender who seemed to think Yakov was still King and spoke little english, if any.

Not the ideal hideout, but better than facing Isabella again. He didn’t need to be harped on for messing things up twice.

Instead his plan was to drink, write a very formal apology, have it delivered to Yuri, and pray to god he wants to continue talking.

Unfortunately he’d have to give up on the Otabek dream. Maybe trying to insert himself between both men was a bit too ambitious, even for him. People from their side of the world always seemed a bit more stiff anyway.

With a defeated sigh he took another sip of his drink. The burn of the alcohol only lasting a moment before warming him up. Whatever he had ordered was at least doing the job. That was one thing to be thankful for.

The door opened behind him, a small bell chiming to alert the barkeep.

He greeted the patron in an old language. Something close to Russian maybe, but not exact. Probably something native to the city.

At least here no one seemed to give a shit who he was.

That was his theory at least, until he heard someone clear his throat behind him.

“Listen there’s still plenty of seats for you to take,” JJ said, brushing the man away before getting a good look at him.

From the corner of his eye he could see the familiar tan face that had already caused him so much trouble. Unfortunately for him, he was far too sober to have just mistaken him for someone else.

“…what are you doing here?” Otabek’s deep voice was unmistakable.

Unmistakable and ready to ruin his day twice.

“Having a drink. I didn’t want to stay in our safe house.” JJ tried not to focus on the fact the other man had yet to sit down. “You?”

“This place sells old traditional drinks. Yuri wanted to rest.” Otabek’s dark eyes scanned JJ, sending a shiver up and down his spine.

He sat, purposefully leaving a space between them. The bartender placed an order down the two men exchanging looks with a familiarity JJ longed for.

He had places he frequented back home, but they always treated him well, like a King. Here at least, they just seemed to care that he was a foreigner.

“How is he?” JJ asked in an attempt to keep the man talking. “He seemed so mad and I didn’t really mean..”

Otabek quirked an eyebrow, the slightest of gesture expressing a world of disbelief. 

“Well I didn’t think he’d get so upset.”

For a moment Otabek looked like he was considering a response. His dark eyes scanning JJ over carefully before he stood from his chair. Money moving from his pocket to the country before JJ had the chance to understand he’d crossed a line.

“You aren’t taking this seriously. He’s giving up a lot to try and go through with this. Don’t make it a joke.” Otabek’s eyes locked onto JJ’s, devoid of any humor.

“I’m not—It’s not a joke,” he pleaded, “I just thought, if you two were already a thing, he’d be happier knowing I wouldn’t make him give that up to marry me. I mean who would complain about someone like either of you?”

His words hung in the air, their meaning sinking in with both men far at the same moment.

JJ’s cheeks flushed red as he began stumbling over his words to try and lessen the blow while Otabek stood, frozen in place.

The tell-tale warmth of his skin not visible in the dim bar light.

“You meant your flirting..? Are you insane?” Otabek asked, straight to the point.

“No! I’m not! I just, I mean fuck I know Yuri’s probably been with more people than me but I kept seeing you and him and then he did the proposal and I saw more. I-I’m not crazy, maybe a bit too hopeful but not crazy. I mean I’m not evil I wouldn’t make him break up if you two are a thing, but I’m not about to get married to someone who has someone like you without at least knowing I’m not the third wheel.”

Otabek’s face only got darker as he tried to brush off the King.

“I’m Yuri’s Knight. My job is to protect him and her everything run smoothly. This conversation is the opposite of that. Focus on him if you want to leave on even remotely good terms.”

“Okay! Yeah! Yes, I can do that. I can absolutely do that and we can forget this every happened,” JJ stammered, “But um, small problem though. How exactly do I get him to talk to me again… ever?”

Maybe it was the pathetic look of a King drinking alone, or maybe just the fact Otabek was still in shock that made him take pity on JJ. Bella had always said he had a hard face to turn down.

“Meet me outside tomorrow… I can’t make him talk to you, but I’ll help you apologize. Okay?”

“Thank you! Oh if this works I’m making you a Duke or something to pay you back.”  
Otabek turned his head, the blush spreading to his neck, growing more and more noticeable.

“Just, tone it down, that’s all I want.”

* * *

Otabek had several plans for his free time in Almaty: showing Yuri around, drinking where he used to, picking up a few things, may be even stopping by his family.

None of those plans could have accommodated his current position.

King JJ in his “Civilian” clothes, pinned to his side, talking his ear off when an endless list of suggestions to try and win Yuri over.

Had the two of them at least tolerating each other not been politically important Otabek would’ve ran the second he saw the man. Every ounce of his being had told him to leave, but something about the sad puppy eyes mixed with his alarmingly innocent aura made him difficult to abandon.

If he didn’t have a decorative sword very obviously placed on his hip he would’ve seemed completely harmless.

So out of pity and self preservation Otabek decided to put up with the King at least for the time being.

“What about jewelry? I have a necklace to give him, he didn’t look at it yet, but maybe something else? Or is that not personal enough. Or would it be too personal?” the King prattled on.

“Yuri likes things given to him by people he likes,” Otabek reminded him for a third time that day.

“Yeah but he doesn’t like me right now, so I need something that’ll make him like me. How did you do it? Was it the hair?”

“We have similar hair your highness,” he paused, “So not that.”

JJ groaned, running his hands across the clean buzz on the back of his head.

Not that Otabek meant to stare, but he couldn’t help but notice that they were similar, at least no the surface. The King’s hair was a bit longer on top and left loose, but the style was almost the same. His jaw wasn’t as defined, but still a similar shape. Had his face not held so much expression all the time they might’ve even looked similar from the front. The only thing really separating them was their height and Otabek’s noticeably sturdier figure.

By all accounts if Yuri had a type the King could have fit.

That was until he opened his mouth.

“Well maybe if I got a tan then. I can get one in the summer, but not as dark as you. But I could try!”

Otabek had to physically hold back a groan.

“I don’t think your looks are what’s hurting you right now,” he muttered.

“Oh really? So you do think I look good huh?” JJ smirked.

This time he couldn’t keep the groan back.

“Could you please focus on Yuri? I am not a part of this. I don’t sign any papers, and I’m not getting married. Focus. You’re supposed to be better than this.” Otabek could help himself, all the rumors, all the propaganda, anything he had ever heard about the King was meant to build him up.

Not make him seem like a school boy with his first crush.

Especially not one who was so openly crushing on the same Prince he’d been chasing after for ages.

As if sensing his frustration JJ conceded. His attention turning from the knight to a pile of tapestries decorating a market stall. They hadn’t found a single thing even remotely worthy of Yuri, and part of Otabek was pleased, but the rest of him was very aware he would be stuck with the King until he at least solved part of the problem.

Now that he had a moment to think, he couldn’t actually recall anything Yuri liked as a gift.

He knew things he just liked. Sweets, garish jewelry, extravagant clothing, anything that gave Viktor a hard time, but nothing that he loved.

Aside from maybe his cats and his grandfather, most of the world just seemed like an added bonus. It wasn’t as though he could just bring his grandfather into town.

By his side he heard JJ cooing at something, his tall frame kneeling down to pet an animal by a display table. Some scruffy alley cat no doubt looking for scraps. Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d give the King fleas. That’d but an end to their search.

He was just about reach down to pull the other man up when the idea hit him, so obvious he couldn’t believe he didn't think of it to use for himself.

“Your highness, have you ever thought about getting a cat?”

* * *

The kitten’s name was Nyma. JJ found her, but Otabek had the honor of name her seeing as ‘Maple’, ‘Cherry’, and ‘Sandy’ were so boring Yuri would’ve no doubt thought it was a joke.

She was more fluff than cat, with two dark brown eyes and a sandy brown coat of fur.

Otabek had been so focused on preparing the box to carry her in he barely had time to notice the dark red collar being slipped over her head. The embroidered J’s unmistakable against the fabric.

JJ had thanked him, repeatedly, mentioning several times how he deserved medals and would be rewarded when he won Yuri over.

It wasn’t until the kitten was safely in her box and leaving with the King that Otabek began to feel unsteady.

There wasn’t any real chance of Yuri being swayed. This was just for politics.

But just to be safe, he needed to at least make sure Yuri knew he was the one that came first.

* * *

Yuri was on the balcony when Otabek returned, his arms finding their way around his waist with a wonderful familiarity.

They didn’t speak, they hadn’t spoken much since the meeting went south.

They didn’t speak much that night when he left to get a drink and came home smelling like incense and cinnamon.

They didn’t need to speak. All Yuri needed was to feel the other beside him. To have him anchoring him back into place. To forget about any other person with an undercut that felt the need to talk far more than he wanted to.

Even so, their lack of conversation wasn’t as comforting as it had been before.

Neither of them had addressed the fact the offer seemed to now be for not just Yuri, but Otabek as well. The Leroy’s were always known to be greedy, but that was almost too much to even sound real.

“You were out for a while today,” Yuri muttered, his hands resting overtop Otabek’s.

He simply got a grunt in response.

“You going to tell me why?” He smirked.

“Trying to help things. You needed rest anyway,” Otabek said with a kiss to his shoulder.

The prince nodded, keeping his focus on the dim glittering of the city around them.

Back home it was too cold to go out at night, and though there was still a chill, the warmth of the city kept snow from lasting on the ground.

“When you say helping things you mean..?”

Otabek’s grip tightened for a moment before leaving, his warmth gone for a moment before he moved to Yuri’s side to watch the city with him. His gaze noticeably focused away from the blonde.

“I mean the King… You need to talk to him again at least to sign a new deal,” Otabek fiddled with his hands as he spoke. “You don’t have to marry him, he’s definitely ridiculous.”

“He also knows about us. Which could be bad, very, very bad. Especially for you,” Yuri glanced over. “You heard him making those weird jokes. He thinks your some piece of ass. Turning down men like that is dangerous. It’d be safest to just leave and trash the whole idea.”

“Yura, I don’t… I’m not sure that’s what he meant. He’s dumb, he’s not like you or Katsuki. He talks without thinking. I actually, I think he meant what he was saying as a compliment.”

“Otabek I think you’re getting sick. Were you drinking? Are you okay?”

“Yuri…” Otabek’s tone was far more serious than it should’ve been. “If he wanted to harm us he wouldn’t still be here. People don’t take kindly to their fiancé sleeping with someone else.” 

“Unless they’re a crazy evil bastard who doesn’t have real feeling,” Yuri snapped, turning to face Otabek. “For all we know he’ll have the meeting room rigged to kill us both when we walk back in there.”

“He wont Yura,” Otabek finally returned his gaze, his dark eyes locked on Yuri’s. “I saw him, he wants to see you, whatever his thing is with me we figure that out after this.”

Yuri took a step back, his mind going into shock trying to process everything at once. Instinctively his mind went to betrayal. Then worry. Then pure confusion.

Otabek had seen the King, survived, and came back to what, put in a good word? None of it was making sense.

“Are you going mad?” He gawked.

With a steady gentleness Otabek reached for Yuri’s hand, keeping him from pulling farther away.

“I don’t know what going on anymore than you do. I just know he cares about this, for some weird reason. It’s not like I don’t understand someone wanting to chase after you,” Otabek trailed off, his grip on Yuri’s hand increasing slightly. “He at least isn’t ugly.”

“He’s like a discount version of you with Viktor’s voice. He’s hideous.”

Otabek quirked an eyebrow, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

“Will you just try?”

Yuri scowled, considering for a moment how difficult it would be to throw himself from the balcony. Not too difficult really, but Otabek didn’t seem likely to let his hand go to make it a clean fall. If it wouldn’t kill him immediately it’d be too much of a pain to be worth it.

“Fine… but I’m letting him know that last bit. And I’m not being nice. At all. He doesn’t get to hit on you and not get called a jackass.”

Otabek’s smile grew just enough to help soothe Yuri.

“Oh I wont stop you there at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end folks! A big thanks to everyone who's stuck around, you really make my day.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://annacaterninina.tumblr.com/)


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